


there must be fullness somewhere

by celaenos



Series: peggy!cap au verse [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Peggy Carter, Canon-Typical Violence, Cartinelli Week, F/F, Peggy Carter as Captain America, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie remembers being taught all about the 107th infantry in school. The legendary Howling Commandos. And the woman who led them. A woman with one of the greatest scientific achievements known to man running through her veins, and a head full of military knowledge all her own. The woman who became a symbol of America during the war. Good ole' fashioned patriotism, freedom, and the American way. </p><p>And she did it all supporting a pair of breasts and a clipped British accent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to get this all done in one go, but i ended up having to do a lot more work this week than i had anticipated (which is why i only got to write for a few days for cartinelli week) but this is the one i was really excited about, so i figured rather than rush it, i'll just give you a little preview for cartinelli week, and actually write the whole thing out. 
> 
> happy last day of cartinelli week, getting this one in under the wire. enjoy!

_"At times I hardly can believe in you, except this ache, this longing in my gut, this emptiness, which theorizes you. because if there is emptiness this deep, there must be fullness somewhere."  -Evidence: Erica M. Jong_

 

They find Captain America buried under nearly 70 years of ice on the longest day of the year.

Angie sits in her apartment and watches it on the news. A bowl of cereal propped up on her knees, and hair still wet from her shower. She remembers reading a few of her brothers' stolen Captain America comics as a kid. (The Martinelli boys often worked out the five finger discount for themselves.)

Angie remembers being taught all about the 107th infantry in school. The legendary Howling Commandos. And the woman who led them. A woman with one of the greatest scientific achievements known to man running through her veins, and a head full of military knowledge all her own. The woman who became a symbol of America during the war. Good ole' fashioned patriotism, freedom, and the American way.

And she did it all supporting a pair of breasts and a clipped British accent.

According to the history books, that caused a bit of a ruckus back in 1943. And, apparently, Peggy Carter is causing another big one now that she's been found.

Angie takes another bite of her cereal, it's starting to get soggy. The man on the news goes on and on, asking how could our military have ever allowed a British woman go around calling herself Captain America. The woman who is his co-anchor does a good job of not calling him a sexist fuck on air. (Angie would have.) Instead, she calmly reminds him that Peggy Carter is technically a dual citizen. She was born in Richmond, Virginia in 1918 to British parents on an extended holiday in the country, and didn't move to London until she was two. She is as American born as the news anchor. Born, in fact, in the exact same state.

The man doesn't have much to say after that. The woman smirks at the camera while he shuffles his papers around awkwardly. Angie gives her a salute with her spoon before dumping the rest of her cereal into the garbage disposal, and heading off for her shift at work.

Captain America is all anyone can talk about for the entire day. A woman being preserved in ice for sixty-seven years and coming out on the other side of it alive is pretty damn impressive. Not to mention, the mess that she managed to make out of an entire block in Times Square.

That, and the fact that she hasn't aged a single day since she fell into the ocean back in 1944.

That's the bit that Angie can't quite get over. They keep showing grainy old black and white footage of Captain America leading the Commandos into battle. Old propaganda footage, with the image of Uncle Sam behind her. Then jump cutting to the new images of her running around Times Square. Looking confused, and scared, and knocking into everything in her wake. Angie thinks that maybe showing that clip's distasteful. She's pretty sure that if she woke up and got told that she'd been asleep for nearly seventy years, she'd do a hell of a lot of scared running around too.

“Crazy huh?” one of her regulars asks as she refills his coffee. “First that rich boy builds himself a suit to fly around in, then that scientist turns himself into a big ass green monster, now this. What's next, aliens?”

Angie sets the coffee pot back down on the burner. Nods to the couple who just walked in to let them know she'll be right with them. “Probably, haven't you ever seen The X-Files? It's a big old universe out there. Gotta be something more than us.”

“You don't really believe that,” he asks as Angie slips out from behind the counter.

Angie spins, walking backwards towards her new table and opening her arms playfully. “Come on Frank, don't tell me you're a Scully.”

“What in the hell is a scully?”

Angie just gives him one of her thousand watt grins. The one guaranteed to get her a good tip out of the crotchety old Irishman. Frank sighs at her and starts dropping bills down onto the counter. Angie gives him a wink before turning to her new customers and tapping her pen against her ticket pad. “Hi folks, what can I getcha?”

…

…

A woman walks into the automat three weeks later and sits down in Angie's section. She's got thick brown hair tucked up underneath a Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap that's a million years old, and keeps hunching over as if trying not to attract any attention to herself.

Angie's had a crappy day so far. Her roommate, Ryan, left an open carton of lo mein noodles so old it turned rancid on the floor. Angie stepped in it while she was hurrying not to be late to her audition at five o'clock in the morning. Then, she got told, 'thanks, but no thanks' by the casting directors right off the bat. She spent the entire subway ride to work considering the possibilities of dying her hair blonde, and how much money she'd have to save up for a boob job. When she got to work, one of the other waitresses, Sarah, was sick, so she's had to cover double the number of tables all day.

People aren't in a tipping mood in this kind of heat. Summer in New York is in full swing.

Angie grabs her pad and heads over with a pitcher of water, not bothering to get a good look at the woman. “Hi,” she says, pouring water into the glass on the table. “I'm Angie, I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you anything to drink besides water?”

“Coffee, if you have it please,” a low, accented voice says.

“Sure thing. Here's a menu. Why don't you look that over while I grab it.” Angie pours the coffee, and takes half of the woman's order before she realizes who's sitting in her booth. “Holy shit,” she whispers in shock.

The woman stops talking and turns to look up at Angie.

“Oh, shit. Sorry for swearing. Shit, sorry I did it again. I just—you're  _Captain America_.” Angie says this as if the woman has no clue who she is. Peggy Carter looks down at the menu and shifts her weight around in the booth. Looking uncomfortable. So, Angie keeps right on blabbing like an idiot. “What the hell are you doing in some crappy old diner in Brooklyn? I mean, I don't know much about it, none of my brothers or cousins are in the military, but almost seventy years of veterans compensation's got to rack up to something worth splurging on.”

“I—”

“Where'd you get that hat? The Dodgers ain't been in Brooklyn for like... fifty years or more. I don't follow baseball that much, but I know it's been a long ass time.”

Captain America looks like she might throw up.

“I'm sorry,” Angie says. “I babble when I'm nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“You're  _Captain America_.”

“Most people call me Peggy.”

Angie sticks her hand in front of Captain America's face. “Angie Martinelli. So, why  _are_ you slumming it in here?”

“It... looked familiar.”

“Oh,” Angie looks around the automat she's spent far too many hours of her life in. “Right, the whole, old-time-y style diner. Guess that makes sense. All the food's processed crap nowadays though. Probably won't taste the same if my grandmother's word is anything to go by. She complains a lot. Food and laziness are right up at the top of the list.”

Peggy gives Angie a polite smile.

“I'm babbling again huh?”

Peggy nods.

“Sorry.”

Peggy's smile slips into something that feels real, and Angie's stomach flutters a little more than it should. “It's alright,” she says softly.

“I'll just... the burgers are pretty good. Grilled cheese too. Or the turkey wrap.”

“What's your favorite?” Peggy asks.

“Honestly, the burger.”

Peggy's bright red lips widen, and she passes the menu back over. “I'll take a chance on that then. Has your grandmother ever tried one?”

Angie snorts. “She wouldn't be caught dead in here even if someone were holding a gun to my ma's head and threatening to murder her.” Peggy looks concerned. Angie waves her off. “Oh, no, it's not the food so much as me. She's a strict old Italian catholic. Frowns upon my _'unnatural desires and the company I keep'_. She hasn't talked to me since I was sixteen and she caught me making out with Claudia Giovani in the hall closet.” Angie shrugs and gives Peggy a grin. “She'd love the burgers if she tried one. She'd add more cheese though. I'll get this right in for ya!”

Angie practically runs back into the kitchen to fire her ticket. She just made a complete fool outta herself in front of Captain America. This day can't possibly get any worse.

Angie spends the rest of her shift running around juggling all her tables. She makes a point to stop in and refill Peggy's coffee every chance that she gets, because, if nothing else, the woman should get a good cup of joe after sleeping for more'n half a person's lifetime.

That, and because Angie's having trouble wrapping her brain around the fact that this is the woman she's read about in history books. She's got a Captain America t-shirt hidden somewhere in the back of her closet. She went along with all her friends and saw the Captain America blockbuster movie the summer that she turned fourteen. (It was too long and mostly fight scenes. Angie spent the majority of the film trying to ignore David Henderson and Ashley Kaminski making out right beside her. That, and wondering if Emily Liu was trying to hold her hand or not. She was.) Her dad loves the Stephen Spielberg Captain America movie that was made back in the 90s. Angie's seen it more times than she can count.

And now, the real live woman is eating a hamburger six feet away from Angie. Smiling at her in a way that's got Angie dropping things and knocking into the chairs right in front of her.

Peggy jumps up with reflexes that can't be properly captured on a blockbuster screen and catches the tray of clean glasses that Angie nearly sent sprawling to the floor. “ _Shit,_  thanks English. Oh, shit, sorry for saying shit.”

Peggy gives her an amused smile and sets the tray down on a clean table. “You don't have to apologize for cursing.”

“Right, well, I do. You're a customer. Not supposed to do that.”

“I think the situation warranted for it. I won't tell.” Peggy mimics locking her lips and Angie grins. Captain America is a dork. This might be the best day of her life.

“Angie! Table eight's order has been up for three minutes!” The cook, Raleigh, screams from in the kitchen.

Right, it's the worst day. Angie forgot.

“Sorry,” she says again, grabbing the tray and backing up towards the kitchen door. “Let me just get this out and I'll get your check for you.”

“It's not a problem Angie,” Peggy says. Saying Angie's name in a way that has her thinking that maybe only people with Peggy Carter's exact accent should ever be allowed to speak her name again. “I'm in no rush. Take your time.”

“Thanks English,” Angie gives her a bright smile. “I owe you one.”

…

…

Peggy comes to the automat again. Twice. Angie is working both days. They mostly make small talk with each other, but Angie can't help getting excited anyhow. She starts telling Peggy songs she's got to listen to. Movies to catch up on.

“You gotta read Harry Potter, English,” Angie tells her during a lull in her shift during the first week in July. “You're a Brit, partly anyway, and everyone and their mother knows about Harry Potter. You can't live and not read it. Besides, they're great books. I can practically lay out my childhood by each one.”

“I should make a list. You keep giving me more suggestions than I can remember.”

Angie jumps up to get a pen and some paper. “I'll get you started.”

…

…

Peggy comes back to the automat the next afternoon. “The librarian wouldn't let me check out all seven books at once,” she says, her arms full of what looks like books one and two. “It took over an hour to even get these! I needed to obtain some sort of plastic card.” Peggy holds up the green and blue library card. “This isn't one of those credit card things is it?”

“No. But they'll get you electronically on late fees.”

“However would they do that?”

“The internet.”

“Oh.”

“Punk-ass book jockies,” Angie hums.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Parks and Rec.”

Peggy looks utterly confused.

“It's on Netflix.”

“I—”

Angie sighs. “This is gonna take a lot more than you poppin' in to ask me questions while I'm at work. Where do you live?”

…

…

As it turns out, the government or whoever—Peggy wouldn't say—got her some fancy digs in Brooklyn. It's only about half an hour or so away from Angie's apartment. Angie puts her foot in her mouth and prattles on about it being close to where Steve Rogers grew up, and how cool is that, and then Peggy gets real quiet.

“Oh, shit. I'm sorry, I wasn't—”

“It's alright.”

Angie nods to the baseball cap resting over on the couch. “Is that where you got that?”

Peggy smiles fondly at it and nods. “Steve was a fan. Is a fan.”

“Oh, so... he's...”

“Alive?” Peggy asks. Angie nods sheepishly. “Yes," Peggy answers, soft. "He lives in a nursing home in Washington DC. He gave me the hat a few weeks ago.”

“Wow, that's... it must be weird. To see your old boyfriend is a head trip no matter what, but to see him like, seventy years later and not be fulla wrinkles yourself? That's gotta mess with your brain some.”

Peggy's eyes go wide.

“Oh, shit. If I'm being too blunt or an asshole, you can kick me out. No hard feelings.”

“No,” Peggy's eyes soften, and she gives Angie a small smile. “It's refreshing. Everyone else tip toes around me as if I'm made of glass.”

“Which is hilarious, since you could probably lift a hummer if you wanted to.”

“A hammer? I would think even you would be able to lift a hammer,” Peggy frowns at Angie, sizing up her arms. Angie covers them in embarrassment.

“H _um_ mer,” she clarifies. “It's a type of car. Sorta like an army tank kind of thing. Super heavy, was the point.”

“Ah.”

They both fall silent for a moment, and Angie looks around the apartment. It's incredibly fancy, and painfully bare. No pictures on the walls. Only the library copies of Harry Potter sitting alone on the bookshelf. No clothes strewn about. No dirty dishes anywhere in sight. There's barely any food in the pantry. It's like no one lives here at all. Like Peggy is afraid to make her mark on this world now that she's back in it.

Angie won't have that. Peggy's a war veteran. A female historical hero. A girl with no ties to anything who deserves to have her second chance at life.

So, she drags Peggy onto the couch and starts introducing her to the finer points of the 21st century. Starting with online shopping for this drab apartment.

…

…

Peggy starts coming into the automat almost every afternoon for lunch. Angie usually gets the morning shift, so, she spends her lunch hour with Captain America everyday.

It's a bit of a thing for a person to wrap their head around.

Peggy works her way through the entire menu in just under two weeks. Hamburgers are her favorite too. Angie beams at her when Peggy says, “Looks like I should trust your word from now on.”

Angie waves a hand at her in embarrassment, coffee pot in the other. “Shut up English,” she says with a laugh. Peggy smiles at her in that way that just isn't fair.

Angie knows that she's just gonna make herself miserable thinking things like that. Letting her stomach go all wobbly when Peggy smiles at her. Staring at her lips far too often. Imagining this relationship as more than it is.

Technically, she's not even sure if they're friends or not. They're  _friendly_  that's for sure. Peggy comes around often enough that Angie must at least not drive her batshit crazy. The food isn't that great, and there are plenty of other people who can help her get aquatinted with the last seventy years. So, Angie herself has got to be a factor.

Only problem is, the more that Peggy comes around, the more attached to her that Angie gets, and being friends isn't usually the first thing on her mind. Which, is  _stupid._ Peggy is straight as an arrow, still pining over a scrawny, asthmatic, kind man in a nursing home who she goes to visit every week. Peggy is  _Captain America_ , she's not about to fall for some waitress from Brooklyn.

So, Angie settles her mind towards winning her friendship. Because honestly, it doesn't feel like she's settling for something. Not when Peggy smiles at her broadly and laughs. It feels like a heckuva thing to have, Peggy Carter as your friend.

…

…

It is so hot that the birds aren’t flying, so humid not a single bee can rise into the air. Angie sits in the empty automat and fans herself with a menu. The air conditioning broke last week. No one has come in all morning, and Angie might die from this heat. She's given up on trying to get the old fan to spin in her direction, instead, just sits down on the linoleum floor she mopped last night and waits to melt. The bell chimes over the front door, but Angie doesn't look up as quick as usual. She's lethargic. Her uniform is stifling. And whoever it is, they're just gonna turn back around and book it the minute that they realize there's no air conditioning, and only one working fan in the joint.

“Good afternoon,” Peggy's voice calls down to her. Hint of amusement to it.

Angie is startled to see Peggy; the ice cube she’s been crunching on drops out of her mouth and slides down her knee. She pays no attention to it. She doesn’t notice the noise from the plane flying above, or the ant making its way across her shoe, or the fact that her skin feels even hotter than it did a minute ago.

“Hey Cap, I'll bet you miss the Arctic right now,” Angie jokes.

Instead of slapping her like Peggy should, she smiles down at Angie and offers her an arm up.

“What time do you get off?” she asks.

“Four, then I've got to somehow make my way to an audition across midtown by four-thirty.” Angie grimaces down at her sweaty body. “I'll need to shower first, but there isn't time. I should just bail. It's gonna be a no anyhow.”

“You can't know that.”

“I dunno if anyone's clued you in on it yet English, but the world's pretty shitty nowadays. Besides, I've been doing this for three years. No's are all I ever get. I'm gonna be a waitress for the rest of my life.” Angie can't move it's so hot. She groans. She has never handled the heat well. She just gets cranky. “Well, if I don't melt to death right now.”

Peggy places her arms on either side of Angie's shoulders. “You're not going to die. I wouldn't let you.”

Angie grins. “That's real sweet of you English. Now, help me move in front of the fan. I don't think I can do it on my own.”

Peggy shrugs, and hauls Angie up into her arms with ease. Angie squeals, kicking her legs back and forth to be let down. Peggy deposits her in front of the fan with a smile, and asks if an iced coffee tastes any good. A woman from her building suggested it. A very stupid lump forms in Angie's throat as Peggy smiles at her, she takes a sip of iced coffee to drown it.

…

…

“What's eating you English?” Angie asks as she pours Peggy some tea. Mint today. No sugar added.

“Oh, nothing,” she says absentmindedly. Angie raises her eyebrows and Peggy lets out a sigh. “I've been offered a job of sorts.”

“Oh? Is it being a waitress? Cause you can do better than that.”

Peggy laughs lightly and sips at her tea. “No, it's... well, I'm not sure what the best word for it would be.”

“What's in the job description?”

Peggy squints at nothing, trying to come up with the correct answer. “Saving the world?”

Angie laughs as hard as she can till she realizes that Peggy is serious. “Wait, huh?”

“I don't think there is really a better term. It's not military, though there are soldiers.”

“Oh... well... do you want to take it?”

“I'm not sure yet. I'd be gone for extended periods of time. I'm rather starting to enjoy Brooklyn.”

Angie wants to tell her to turn it down, but that's selfish and stupid. She swallows and puts on what she hopes comes off as a real smile. “Well, you look like the saving the world type to me Cap.” She goes to take care of another table, ignoring the way that Peggy's eyes bore into her as she leaves.

…

…

Angie is the only one in the automat, mopping and belting her heart out the radio when the bell over the door dings. “We're closed,” she calls out, doing an impressive spin with the mop.

“Empty the register,” a deep voice orders. Angie finally turns around and meets a gun being held at her face. And suddenly, Angie can't hear a thing but her own blood rushing through her ears. She wishes she hadn't told Raleigh to go on home early. Wishes she'd locked the damn door.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Angie exclaims, unsure if this is a thing that's really happening, or if she's so dog tired from working double shifts that she's starting to see things. The gun gets real close to her face. “Okay, okay,” Angie moves towards the till. “I'm going.”

Two more boys walk in, and Angie's breathing starts coming in quicker. They're big. The guy with the gun, a white man who's probably only a few years older than Angie, is leering at her, worse than some of the handsy customers Angie's had over the years. Angie swallows and punches in her code, stepping outta the boy's way as he moves over to grab the cash. The other two, a skinny, nervous looking black kid who can't be more than seventeen, and a tall, muscly frat boy type, with bleached blonde hair start moving closer. The two white guys are much older than the boy, and they're looking at Angie like she's a piece of meat. The teenager can't stop looking out the windows, his leg bouncing. Angie presses herself against the wall and tries her best to look invisible. It doesn't take.

The frat boy walks over to her, and runs a finger down her cheek. Angie shivers and he laughs at her. “What's your name?” he asks.

“Take the money and leave,” Angie tells him, voice steadier than she thought it'd be.

“No, I don't think I will,” he says. Faster than Angie can blink, his palm strikes her chest in the space between her breasts; hitting hard enough that it knocks the wind out of her and shoves her a solid half step backward. She gasps for air, casting a wide-eyed, startled look in his direction. He regards her calmly, an almost analytical look on his face. “I think we'll stay,” he says.

The teenager locks the door and turns away from them. Keeping watch. Angie lets out a piercing scream.

“Shut up bitch,” the man with the gun says, jumping forward and covering her mouth. Angie bites at his hand as hard as she can. “Fuck!” he yelps, and slaps her.

She's still gasping for air from the first punch, and now, she's crying. She hates that she's crying, but she can't make it stop. She's never been this scared in her whole life. Not even when her older brother Gino nearly got himself killed bringing genuine Italian thugs to their home with her idiot cousin Ralphie. Angie kicks out at them futilely, wishing she'd knew some sort of self defense.

“Get away from her,” Peggy's voice spits out from behind them, as low and dangerous as Angie's ever heard it.

The men turn, laughing, and see that their teenage lookout is cradling his jaw and getting ready to run. Frat Boy glares at Peggy.

“You can join in,” he says, “I don't mind. Go on and give her a kiss.”

Peggy socks him in the jaw. He goes down so hard that Angie screams. The man with the gun tries to shoot at Peggy, and Angie's suddenly even more scared than she was a moment ago, but Peggy knocks the gun out of his hands and knocks him unconscious in a single punch. Angie thought that was just something fake that happened in movies.

Peggy's at her side in seconds, wrapping Angie up into her arms, and that's when Angie realizes that she's shaking, making this awful keening noise and can't seem to stop. Peggy scoops her right up onto her lap, rubbing circles on Angie's back and murmuring to her. “Shush, darling. It's alright.” Angie clings to her, feels stupid about it, but does it all the same.

It takes over an hour and a half before the police take their statements and let them leave, but Peggy grabs Angie's hand and turns her in the direction of her apartment, holding onto her the whole way.

“I'm alright,” Angie insists once they're inside. “Really. Just shook up." 

“You've got quite the bruise forming here,” Peggy says, pulling the front of Angie's shirt down a little. Angie forgets to be embarrassed. It hurts, and she was already tired.

“I'm okay. Thanks to you. I owe you one Cap.”

“You do not,” Peggy insists. “Sit down. I'll make you some tea.”

Angie complies. Peggy Carter doesn't leave much room for arguments. She's back in a flash, warm cup of camomile in her hands. Angie accepts it and leans her head against Peggy's broad shoulder. “Thanks for saving me,” she whispers.

“Of course. You'd do the same for me.”

Angie grins. “Well, I'd try. Don't know how effective I'd be.” They're both quiet, and Angie sips her tea slowly. “Hey English,” she asks, feeling utterly stupid. “Will you stay over here tonight?”

“Of course I will Angie.”

Angie falls asleep against Peggy's side, listening to her steady breathing the whole night through.

…

…

Peggy starts disappearing a few days at a time after that. Angie spends the whole lunch hour looking up hopefully each time the bell dings. It's dumb. Angie  _should_  be glad that Peggy is out seeing more of the new world. She should be, but she's not.

The leaves start to change color, but the heat doesn't back down. Peggy comes into the automat for lunch on a Thursday and looks nervously at Angie.

“What's up?” Angie asks her warily.

“Well... that job I mentioned a few weeks back?”

“Saving the world?”

“Right, that one. Well, I've sort of accepted it.”

Angie's insides go all prickly, though they've got no right to. “Oh, wow... that's great. Guess I should start calling you Captain now huh?”

“Please don't,” Peggy says with a laugh.

“Sure thing Captain,” Angie salutes and Peggy cringes. Possibly, her form is all off; she might have just offended everyone who's ever been in the military. Angie does it again.

Once they've stopped laughing at each other, and Angie's given Peggy her usual order, the dread settles in. “So... you moving to Washington or wherever now?”

“No, I'm keeping my apartment. I just won't be sleeping in it every night. Lots of travel involved. The world's gotten quite larger.”

“It's actually gotten smaller I think. Shrinking glaciers, global warming and all that. Which, you're probably familiar with. Being a Capsicle and all that.”

Peggy winces. “Never speak again.”

“What? I think Capsicle's got a nice ring to it. We could make it a song. That'd land me a callback.”

“You'll get one. You're a wonderful actress Angie.”

Angie shrugs her words off as Peggy finishes her meal. She rises, staring at Angie with a look that Angie can't quite figure out, then smiles softly. “Well, I'll be off for a bit then,” she says, not really sounding excited about it.

Angie nods. “Go on and save the world and all that.”

Peggy's eyes dart down to Angie's lips, so quick she might have imagined it. Then, she gives Angie a bright smile, and pulls her in for a hug. “Take care of yourself Angie.”

“You too English. Don't forget the little people while you're gone.”

Peggy pulls back and looks at Angie. “Never,” she says, sending shivers down Angie's spine. Then, she's gone.

…

…

A week and a half later, aliens start falling out of the sky.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to mention in the first chapter, i mashed bits of peggy's comics canon (american, born in richmond virginia) with her mcu, (british through and through) and changed her age to match steve's bc... i can. so.... yeah. expect bits of 616 and mcu to be smashed together throughout the fic for multiple characters. 
> 
> sorry this one took so long, we're short people at work and i'm the only one to cover. there will _probably_ be 2 more chapters. and... my mom and sister are about to visit for a week or so in a few days, so... i'm gonna try to get as much writing done as i can before they get here, but just be aware there might be a little wait for the next bit. sorry.

Peggy doesn't like Natasha much at first; but, she never likes anyone at first. Not Steve. Not even Angie. (Though, she didn't particularly _dislike_ either of them at first glance either.)

She hates Stark right away. Somehow, there is nothing of the fondness that she'd held for his father. Howard was an utter prat, but he had a good heart underneath it all. He grew up poor and never looked back once he was past it. His son, on the other hand, grew up spoiled and lonely, having far too many things solely for his own amusement at his disposal. Each time he opens his mouth to crack a joke, Peggy's fingers itch with the urge to punch some sense into him. She keeps her fists clenched and her mouth shut. That is not what she is here for.

Banner is quiet, but not soft. As smart as Stark, his mind whirls as he takes in everything from the corner of the room. Peggy can see the hints of the monster raging beneath his skin. She will not underestimate him.

The god—for there are truly _gods_ now—speaks with a booming voice and refuses to turn his back fully on his brother. Peggy can understand that. Were Harrison still alive, she rather thinks she'd feel the same. From the sounds of things, the boy king is in for a great disappointment. Peggy keeps her lips pressed tightly together about that fact as well.

Natasha bristles when Fury mentions the man with the arrows that's up on the monitor. Peggy wonders briefly if they are romantically entangled, then she watches the way Natasha sets her shoulders and glares at her across the room. No, there is love there, but it's not about sex. Peggy doesn't care what it is. Loyalty. Friendship. A debt. Something else entirely. It doesn't matter to the task at hand. Not for the moment.

Peggy sits at a round table on what is basically a floating building, and can't help but wonder if Steve would have been better equipped for this job. She listens to Director Fury and his second in command, Maria Hill and can't imagine herself working well with this group of people. Steve would have got on with them better than she. She's sure of it.

It's no matter either way. Peggy is not here to make friends, she's here to do a job.

And a rather frightening one at that. Angie had said that the world was actually getting smaller, and she might've been correct, but all Peggy can see is its vastness. Everything is louder. Brighter. Bolder. Faster. And so, so much larger.

 _Aliens_ now. _Gods_ and _aliens._

It's baffling to wrap her head around, but somehow, no more so than the tiny little blocks people call telephones these days. Just another new thing for Peggy to get used to, another thing to add to Angie's list.

Peggy hands Phil Coulson a crisp bill from her wallet as she stares out at the SHIELD aircraft. Listens to Thor plead for help with his brother. Fights with Stark. Watches Natasha take everyone's movements in, no matter how small. Speaks up and jokes, “I understood that reference,” when someone mentions flying monkeys. (Angie had forced Peggy through a marathon of movies. Some, she hadn't the heart to tell her that she had, in fact, already seen. Watching Angie whisper along with the lines verbatim had been worth it.)

In the end, these gods, this alien man, is just another bully. Peggy has never stood for them. It's what drew her to Steve. The boy never could back down from a fight. Neither could Peggy.

So, she assesses her team. They might be well and truly doomed. A time bomb of personalities waiting to go off. Peggy soldiers on anyhow. It's what she knows how to do; the only thing she knows how to do.

She helps Stark repair the Helicarrier's engine while the place explodes around them. Mind controlled agents and men tearing the place apart and letting The Hulk loose. Growls back at Stark when he screams at her about not being soldiers; mourns the man who'd asked her for an autograph and cracked witty, dry jokes in her direction; and sees the look on Natasha Romanova's face as The Hulk chases her through the Helicarrier. Watches her get up anyway and punch her friend back into himself. Watches her effortlessly disarm Loki just by letting him underestimate her. He sees a pair of breasts and tears falling from her eyes and laughs. Natasha thanks him for his cooperation. Not a real tear in sight.

Peggy still doesn't particularly like Natasha, but, she sees a partner worth having on her team.

…

…

A wormhole opens up above New York City, and Peggy's first thought is that Angie needs to _get out._ It shouldn't be her first thought. _Everyone_ should be evacuated. But Peggy tries to call Angie first.

It goes straight to voice mail.

 _'Hey, it's Angie'_ her slow, almost bored drawl rings out in Peggy's ears. _'If you don't leave a message, I'll assume it wasn't important. And I probably won't call you back. Unless it's you Ma... oh, or unless this is about an audition. Fuck, I shouldn't.... where's the... gotta change this damn.....beeeeep.'_

So, she still hasn't gotten around to changing the message. Peggy waits impatiently though it all as they travel further into Midtown, wishes that Natasha wasn't directly to her right, listening in on everything that Peggy is saying.

“Angie, get out of the city and go stay with your friend in Jersey as soon as you get this.” Peggy hangs up, not looking at Natasha or Stark and clenches her teeth.

Then, they pull to a stop, and everything is chaos.

Aliens are falling out of the sky, screeching and terrorizing everyone and everything in their path. People are screaming, running around in the dirt and rubble and trying to get themselves to safety. Peggy itches to turn and run for the automat, but she holds her ground. She's needed here right now. Angie is a smart girl, she can take care of herself.

She'll have to take care of herself.

Peggy stands with Natasha at her back, Hawkeye to her right, and fights for all she's worth. Banner shows up in the nick of time and grins at Peggy. “That _is_ my secret Cap,” he tells her, “I'm always angry.”

Peggy doesn't have much time to contemplate whether or not she trusts these people with her life. She is just going to have to. Natasha catches an alien that had been about to take a chunk out of Peggy's arm, and Peggy pays her back by chucking her shield at one that had been aiming for Natasha's thigh. Hawkeye flings arrows without even looking, hitting his target every time.

“Are you sure about this?” Peggy asks, after Natasha asks Peggy to toss her up into the air.

Natasha looks up, only the barest hint of hesitation on her face. She shrugs, gives Peggy a small, wry grin. “Sure, it'll be fun.”

Peggy shrugs and holds out her shield. Natasha takes a running leap at her, and Peggy hauls her up into the sky. Watches Natasha knock herself into an alien and throw it off its machine. Peggy nods to herself, and gets back to the fight.

By the time Natasha manages to close the wormhole, and Tony falls into the sky, The Hulk catching him, Peggy is bone tired. The streets are still in chaos. Rubble and destruction everywhere. Peggy does a quick head count of her team, then turns on legs that would be shaky if she didn't have the serum running through her veins, and runs towards Brooklyn.

…

…

The automat is in shambles, and Peggy's chest tightens.

“Angie!” she screams, throwing chunks of concrete out of her way. Her voice sounds hoarse. Desperate. Peggy wonders exactly when that happened. “Angie!”

“English!” her voice calls back. “Down here! We're stuck!”

Relief floods through her at the sound of Angie's voice. Peggy rips the hinges off the basement trapdoor and finds Angie beaming back up at her. Two other waiters, the cook, and about fifteen customers right behind her. Everyone appears to have all ten fingers and toes from what Peggy can see.

“Are you alright?” she asks, directing it to the whole room, but keeping her eyes locked with Angie's.

“Sure, Captain America is here to save us,” Angie says with a grin. “We're all just peachy now.”

Peggy rolls her eyes and hauls Angie up out of the ground. Ignores the way her hands won't seem to stop shaking as she does it.

…

…

It takes weeks for the rubble to be cleared away. Peggy goes down every morning to help the team of firefighters, policemen, first responders and volunteers. She can do more than they can, and she helped create the mess. It's only fair that she help clean it up.

…

…

“Oh, drat, guess I'm unemployed now,” Angie says, the morning after the battle.

“Yes, you sound terribly upset.”

Angie looks up at Peggy, “I'm devastated,” she says, deadpan. “What will I ever do without greasy construction workers coming in to grab my ass after their shifts are over?”

If Peggy takes her sweet time in helping a construction worker to lift a chunk of concrete the next morning, she doesn't mention it.

…

…

If Peggy thought she was visible in the media before The Battle of New York, she had no idea what that truly meant.

“You're trending on Twitter again,” Angie announces as Peggy slips into her apartment with a veggie pizza.

Peggy frowns and moves to get some plates. “Why?”

Angie holds up her phone. There's a picture on its screen of Peggy, in her uniform, lifting up the side of a building for an EMT to get down into. It does look rather heroic. Peggy pushes it out of her eyesight, embarrassed.

“That doesn't seem like much to be talking about.”

“You're _lifting up a building_ ,” Angie says, taking a huge bite of pizza. She's got a bit of broccoli on the side of her mouth. Peggy reaches out and brushes it off. Angie almost flinches away from her touch and Peggy frowns, pulling her arm back and apologizing. “It's fine,” Angie insists, her voice pitched too high. “Just ticklish.”

There has been quite a bit of that—Angie flinching away from her. Peggy watches her scroll through her phone, reading the things that people are writing about Captain America, and wonders if Angie is afraid of her now. Of what she can do. Peggy sits down at the small kitchen table and picks at her slice of pizza, eating a green pepper, then a bit of crust before pushing it away. She goes to make some tea instead. Angie excitedly reads aloud new Tweets as they come in. She scowls at ones Peggy knows must be unflattering, and scrapes her fingernail against her touchscreen trying to get them out of her view.

Peggy knows. She's gotten herself a laptop of her own. (Angie had insisted she go for a Mac, regardless of the higher prices.) And she's done enough googling of herself to be aware of some of the rather unpleasant things that people are saying about her. About all the Avengers. But, Peggy and Natasha, the two women, get the brunt of it.

Peggy's heard quite a bit of it before. When they first put the serum in her veins, back when Steve grinned and called her Captain America and it stuck.

It is different, having so many people anonymously spouting hate towards her from behind a screen. The sheer amount of it is overwhelming, and people no longer bother holding back their tongues or their opinions. It seems that being a woman is still something to be harassed for in 2012.

Mostly, people complain about her accent and her breasts. There were a couple of photographs that Peggy had gawked at and insisted to Angie were absolutely _not_ her until Photoshop was explained.

Now, Peggy just ignores it all. Angie however, spends a great amount of time getting into arguments with people over Twitter. She usually wins. Peggy tells her over and over that it's not necessary. The opinions of people she has never, and likely will never meet are irrelevant. But Angie had made a squawking noise that Peggy had to sniffle her laughter at, and yelled, “English, I'm defending your honor. _Shut up_ and let me. That's what friends are for.”

So, Peggy had shut up and let her get on with it. She had also made very careful note of the use of the word, 'friend'. She found herself both filled with warmth, and a twinge of disappointment at the notion. She's still not sure exactly what to make of it.

That is a lie.

Peggy knows what to make of it. Knows exactly what her feelings for Angie mean and what she wants to do with them. She simply pretends that she doesn't. Angie was right, the world has indeed become smaller. Angie can have an argument with a girl from Australia. Grown men can find out where Peggy lives and broadcast it to people who wish to do her harm. People can snap photographs when Peggy doesn't even realize it, and put them up on the internet for all the world to see in a flash. Aliens can fall from the sky and break apart half a city.

And Peggy is directly in the middle of it all. Angie is visible enough with her internet arguments, Peggy isn't about to direct the spotlight on her further by doing something as ridiculous as kissing her. No matter how much she wants to.

It's not terrible, having a real friend. Peggy would rather keep that then muck something special up. Angie is the only person she has met since waking up that makes her feel normal. Less isolated. A part of this world, instead of just on the edges of it. Peggy doesn't know what she would do without that.

It's harder on nights like this though, when Angie is curled up in her armchair, scrolling through her phone and making ridiculous faces at the tiny screen, the tea Peggy made growing cold on the magazine stand beside her. Or when she jumps up, running through lines she is trying to memorize for an audition, grabs Peggy and forces her into the scene with her, stammering and trying to get the inflections of her voice to match Angie's. Or when the two of them are curled up on Peggy's couch, watching a marathon of _Breaking Bad,_  Angie slouching further and further into Peggy's side as she grows more tired.

On nights like that, Peggy has to clench her fists together and force her smiles. Remember how much being Angie's friend means to her. Remember that were she to act on her growing feelings, Angie probably wouldn't reciprocate them anyway.

…

…

Peggy meets her niece only once before joining the Avengers and the Battle of New York. Director Fury had given Peggy a thick manila folder full of information on her family and friends when she woke up.

Harrison had married little Violet Sanders in 1952, just two days after his twenty-sixth birthday. Peggy remembers her. Harrison had fancied her since he was a little boy. She was a small, quiet, polite girl with a shock of red hair. They never had any children. She died in a car accident, only three years after they married. He threw himself into work from the looks of things. Only marrying again many years later, to a much younger bride. Peggy's little brother finally became a father when he was sixty-four. He died, of a heart attack when the girl was only two.

Peggy's parents died before the war. Bucky was never found, though Steve spent a considerable amount of time pestering people into looking for him. Howard most of all. The rest of the Howling Commandos remained a tight bunch, staying long past the time they could have come home and working overseas. Many married. Gabe Jones had a grandson about the age of Peggy's niece. They went through their SHIELD training together.

Peggy looks at the yellowed newspaper clippings and reads all about the things she missed in her friends lives. Steve tells her to buck up. Stop feeling sorry for herself and go out dancing.

Peggy does not, but she does call up her niece and take her out for coffee.

…

…

Sharon holds herself stiffly, never quite meeting Peggy's eyes. Her fingers grip tightly around her coffee mug, and she knows where everyone in the coffee shop is at all times, training Peggy could smell on her a mile away. She feels a hint of pride for this girl she doesn't know. This girl who has Harrison's eyes. His wry smile. This girl who is only a few years younger than Peggy.

Biologically anyhow.

“So, you enjoying 2013?” Sharon asks.

Peggy sips her coffee slowly. She grimaces. All these fancy new coffees just taste too rich. If it's not plain old black drivel from the war, Peggy prefers tea. “It certainly has it's benefits. The food is much better. We used to boil everything.”

Sharon gives her a smile. “Oh, well, there you go.”

Peggy sets her coffee cup down. She's not going to finish it. “You look like your father,” she says, because it's been fighting its way off her tongue for the last hour.

Sharon's smile slips away. She swallows before meeting Peggy's eyes again. “I wouldn't really know.”

Peggy's throat feels too thick. She tries the rich coffee again; still hates it. “No,” she says softly, “I suppose not.”

…

…

Angie lands an audition.

She comes barreling into Peggy's apartment with pie and schnapps in her arms, words pouring out of her mouth faster than Peggy can comprehend.

“Angie!” Peggy grabs her by the shoulders. “Slow down.”

“I'm gonna be in a Broadway show!” Angie screams. “Well, not _on_ Broadway, but it's in the theatre district! It's real, and professional, and I'm gonna be in it!”

Peggy pulls her into a tight hug, knocking the pie in between them. “Angie! That's _wonderful_.”

“English,” Angie says, once the hug has gone on just a bit too long, “you're squishing up the pie I made. I spent hours on it.”

“Sorry!” Peggy yanks herself back from Angie. Too quickly from the odd look she receives. “What, um, sort of pie is it? I didn't know you were a baker.”

Angie snorts and sets the pie down on the table. Rummaging around in the cupboards for plates. “I'm _not_. It's probably not going to taste very good. I almost set my apartment on fire trying to make it though. So we're eating it.”

“I'm sure it's lovely.” Peggy lifts the top of the container off. Underneath is a truly squashed pie. Slightly burnt. Peggy stifles a grimace. “Cherry,” she says, noticing the fruit. Angie turns around with two forks triumphantly and hands one to Peggy. “Perfect.”

“Why bother getting plates dirty? We can just share.” Angie shrugs, and dips her fork in.

Peggy spends the night slowly forcing down bites of half burnt, half underdone pie while Angie tells her every little detail of her audition. By the end of it all, Peggy knows the play's plot so well, she nearly feels capable of performing it herself.

Angie's grin doesn't drop once the entire evening, and Peggy decides cherry is her new favorite flavor of pie.

…

…

Angie throws herself into her role, learning every line and bit of blocking in the entire play within a week. With their new jobs, the two of them see less and less of each other in the next few months. But, Angie spends half of her rehearsals sending Peggy texts about her co-stars, and the other half sending Peggy selfies of her on stage.

Peggy can never help the grin that slips onto her face upon reading them. Natasha starts teasing her about a mysterious boyfriend. “Girlfriend?” she asks with a smirk once Peggy shakes her head. “Thank god, I've been throwing people your way for like three weeks. Which one stuck? Kristen from Statistics?”

Peggy clicks her phone off. “No, I'm not dating anyone.”

“You ask her out, she'll say yes.”

“I know,” Peggy says, strapping her shield to her back. She turns and gives Natasha a grin. “That's why I don't ask,” she leaps out of the plane.

Natasha's sharp laughter rings in her ears all the way down to the ground.

…

…

Peggy is late to Angie's opening night.

She runs through the streets of New York, cursing everyone in her path and apologizing as she knocks a few over. Steve would have stopped to help them up. Peggy just hollers out a very sincere “Sorry!” as she runs towards the theatre district.

She misses nearly all of the first act, but, Angie's mostly in the second anyhow. Peggy gives her very crumpled flowers when she meets her backstage, still in her uniform. It causes quite the ruckus.

“I'm sorry,” she says, again.

Angie waves her off, drops the flowers in water and leaves them there for weeks, long after they've wilted and died. “Peg, I had _Captain America_ come to my opening night. Do you have any idea how much publicity I'm getting! I got _asked_ to come to an audition in a few weeks. That like, only happens to people like Meryl Streep or something! You did me a favor.” She turns and grins at Peggy, tightening her robe and tossing a makeup covered cotton ball into the trashcan. “Jordan, this complete _cow_ who plays one of the dancers, keeps asking me how the hell I landed Captain America as a girlfriend.”

Peggy's entire body freezes. Angie plows on, talking as fast as always.

“I mean, the girl fucks the director, so she assumes that _everyone_ is as massive a slut as she is. Not that—I mean calling people sluts is bullshit and sexist. But,” she pulls a face, “let's be real, every once in a while, the shoe fits. And if she's gonna be telling everyone that _I'm_ sleeping around for roles, she might wanna look in the mirror a bit first. Ya know?”

“Um...”

Angie's eyes go wider than Peggy ever thought possible. “I mean—I'm not—I told her that we're _not_...” A panicked laugh bubbles out of Angie. “I told her we're _friends_. Nothing more.”

“Right,” Peggy says, her voice thick. “Friends.”

…

…

Angie refuses to go for runs with Peggy. She refuses most exercise that doesn't involve dance or yoga. “People who go for runs are losers Peg. Jogging is the _worst._ Besides, you really think I'm gonna huff and puff trying to keep up with you? No thanks.”

So, Peggy starts running solo. The entire length of Central Park when she's in New York, Capitol Hill whenever she's in DC.

DC is where she meets Sam Wilson.

“Need a medic?” she asks as she walks over to him sitting underneath a tree.

“New pair of lungs might do me better,” he says grinning up towards Peggy, sweat dripping from his forehead. “You know that you ran like thirteen miles in half an hour.”

Peggy laughs. “Guess I got a bit of a late start.”

“Well damn girl, you should be ashamed of yourself. Should take another lap,” he stops, still grinning at Peggy. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Peggy nods to his sweatshirt. “What unit are you with?” she holds out an arm to haul him up.

“Fifty-eighth. Para-rescue. But now I'm working with the VA,” he sticks his arm back out to her. “Sam Wilson.”

“Peggy Carter.”

“Kinda put that together. Must have really freaked you out coming home after that whole defrosting thing.”

He's just as blunt as Angie, with a cheeky smile to match. Peggy feels a small weight lift off her shoulders. Listens as he tells her that it's her bed being too soft that's causing her insomnia at night. Adds another music album to Angie's list upon his suggestion. Jokes with him about his poor running form, and climbs into Natasha's car and laughs as Sam tries to flirt with her. Natasha pops a bubble with her gum and calls Peggy a fossil.

“You know I'm aware of the fact that we're nearly the same age?” Peggy asks as Natasha pulls the car away from Sam.

“Please Grandma, I'm way younger than you.”

“In your seventies instead of your nineties?” Peggy shoots back, trying to actually get something real out of her.

Natasha's smirk widens. "Something like that."

…

…

“What about that nurse who lives next door? Brooke? She seems nice. Or that waitress you always hang out with?” Natasha ask as she parachutes down onto the boat's deck. “I've seen the look on your face when she texts you.”

Peggy knocks another French pirate out with her shield. “Secure the engine room, _then_ find me a date,” she orders.

“I'm multitasking,” Natasha shoots back, giving Peggy a smirk before dropping herself down to a lower floor.

Peggy rolls her eyes and moves with the SHIELD agents towards the hostages. Peggy chases after one of the pirates, Batroc, as he slips out of the room, calling Natasha on the comms to circle back and protect the hostages. She doesn't answer.

“Thought you were supposed to be more than a pair of tits and a mask,” Batroc spits out at her.

Peggy lifts her helmet off, her shield squared onto her back, hair messily falling out of its ponytail. “Shall we find out?” she asks him with a cheeky grin. Then she flips herself around and slams her legs into his chest, knocking him backwards and into a wall. As they tussle, Peggy gains the upper hand by smashing him through a glass window. Natasha is on the other side, downloading something from a computer. She looks up at Peggy, nonplussed.

“Well,” she says dryly, “this is awkward.”

Peggy glares at her, knocking Batroc to the ground with her shield. “What are you doing?”

“Backing up the hard drives,” she says, not looking up from the computer. “Good habit for you to get into by the way. That, and Control-Save.”

Peggy walks to her and looks over Natasha's shoulder. “Rumlow needed your help. I called you more than once. Our mission was to rescue the hostages. ”

“No,” Natasha pulls a thumb drive out of the computer. “That was your mission.” She turns to Peggy and smirks, a bit condescendingly. “And you've done it beautifully.”

Peggy grabs her upper arm angrily, sick of Natasha's caviler attitude. “You just jeopardized this whole mission.”

“I think that's overstating things a bit, don't you?”

Batroc rises and lobs a grenade at them. Peggy throws her shield up, covering Natasha as they both dive over the counter.

“Okay,” Natasha sighs, “that one was on me.”

“Bloody right,” Peggy snaps back, rising and stalking back up to the boat deck.

…

…

Peggy goes back to SHIELD angry. Fights with Fury over not giving her all of the information. Listens as he goes on about his grandfather and trust. Takes her down into the depths of SHIELD and shows her giant Helicarriers that leave something awful and leaden in the pit of her stomach.

“I was under the impression that punishment usually came after the crime.”

“We can't afford to wait that long,” Fury says seriously. Tells her that after the Battle of New York, they wanted a global threat analysis. Peggy looks up at the Helicarriers and all she sees is a gun being pointed at everyone on Earth and calling it protection. She tells Fury so, bristling as he tells her that her so called _Greatest Generation_ did some nasty things in their time.

“We made compromises,” Peggy says stiffly. “Some that made it a little harder to sleep at night. But we did it so that people could be free,” she points up to the Helicarriers. “This, isn't freedom. It's fear. It's targeting people who haven't done anything.”

“SHIELD takes the world as it _is_ , not as we'd like it to be. It's long past time you got with that program Cap.”

Peggy levels him with a glare, looks up once more at the Helicarriers in disgust. “Don't hold your breath. You'll find yourself turning a very violent shade of blue.”

…

…

Angie's idea of helping Peggy blow off steam is to take her to the new Smithsonian exhibit all about her life.

Peggy, is less than impressed.

Angie's idea of a disguise involves wigs and costumes temporarily pilfered from her show. Peggy shuts her down as gently as possible, then pulls on a pair of jeans and Steve's baseball cap.

“English,” Angie huffs, dressed to the nines in her own borrowed disguise, “you gotta learn to have a little fun.” Peggy turns and chuckles as Angie adds the finishing touch—a bright red fedora hat—and whips around with a flourish. “How do I look?” she asks.

“Like you were the one living in the nineteen-forties.”

Angie frowns, “The show's a period piece. They didn't have anything else,” she turns back to look at herself in the mirror again, posturing a little. Peggy bites back her smile as she watches. The dress _does_ look wonderful on her. The style suits her well. “I think I look good,” Angie declares. Whipping around, she grabs her purse, loops her arm through Peggy's and pulls her out the door. “Come on English, let's go learn all about Captain America and the Howling Commandos.”

“Lovely,” Peggy says dryly.

It's overwhelming, walking through the exhibit. Most of it are all things she's seen bits of before in her internet searches, but it's quite another thing to be there, having it all physically in front of her. Angie stands for a long stretch of minutes in front of Peggy's first uniform. Her fingers almost reach out and try to touch the glass, twitching against her sides.

Peggy stares at the blown up photographs of herself and the USO girls; all of them beaming from the back of a tour bus, striking ridiculous poses around Peggy both in and out of their uniforms. Peggy had gone to an all girls boarding school in London, and never quite made friends. Acquaintances, casual mates she could enjoy speaking to, but never real friends. The nine USO girls in Peggy's show were all brash and charming. Unwilling to let Peggy just hang back in the corners, they dragged her out dancing and piled into her room to drink and talk.

Angie reminds her quite a bit of a few of them if she's being honest.

Peggy watches the images flash by up on the screen. Ling and Kathleen pulling faces behind Mary and Peggy while Ruthie films them. The camera shaky as it trails along, getting everyone in the shot. Dorothy, Millie, and Hazel, smoking cigarettes on the curb, circling back around to Nora and Lois practicing their dance steps in the middle of the sidewalk. The images intersect with footage of Peggy and the Commandos. Bucky, slinging an arm across Peggy's shoulder while Gabe laughs beside them. Dugan, Falsworth, and Morita having a push up contest while Dernier acts as referee.

And Steve, sitting beside Peggy and Bucky, sketchpad in his hand, beaming up at them both.

Peggy swallows back tears as she feels Angie come up behind her. The screen switches to Steve, in his late thirties, sitting in a living room. Somehow, he looks smaller than ever.

“It was a difficult winter,” he says softly. "A blizzard trapped half our battalion behind the German line. I was...” he chuckles, looking down at his hands. “You think I look a bit scrawny now, imagine an asthmatic little kid with nothing but army rations in his belly. Cold nearly killed me,” he looks up, facing the camera, and smiles. Soft and loving, just the way Peggy remembers. “But, Peg—Captain Carter, she fought her way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months. She saved over a thousand men. Including the woman who... ended up becoming my wife as it turns out.” He grins at the camera, a hint of a tear in his eye. “Even after she died,” he swallows back a choke and Peggy feels Angie's hand slip into her own. “She was still changing my life.”

“Alright, I kinda get it. He's dreamy in a scrawny kind of way,” Angie says, head tilted as she watches Steve on the screen. Peggy laughs. Moments ago, she'd felt like sobbing. But Angie—lovely Angie—can get her to laugh.

“He is indeed,” Peggy answers, her voice full of emotion.

“So, how'd he squeeze his way into the army anyhow? I remember reading he got rejected a bunch in school.”

“Bucky. Bucky, and his own determination,” Peggy says, revealing nothing more. Angie only nods. Not asking for anything further.

“Come on English, I saw a picture of you in a hilarious pair of tights down the hall. I wanna take a picture of you in front of it.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Peggy says, through gritted teeth.

Angie's grin widens, bright and wicked and Peggy groans.

…

…

She goes to see Steve, because he always did know what was right better than anyone else she knew.

“I thought it wouldn't be hard, jumping back in and following orders,” Peggy tells him. “Working with a team, serving my country. But... it's not the same.

“Don't be so dramatic Peg,” he says with a wry smile. “You saved the world, we... kinda messed it up.”

“Don't sell yourself short Steve. Knowing that you had a hand in founding SHIELD, it's half the reason I decided to work with them in the first place.”

Steve smiles at her. “The world's changed. We've grown up. We don't get to go back, only forward. We all just... do our best.”

Peggy watches the recognition slip from his face as she hands him some water. Then, has to stop herself from sobbing as he turns back to her. Like he had the first time she walked through his nursing room door.

“Peggy,” he cries, “you're alive! You came back! We looked—is Buck with you?”

Peggy holds Steve's shaking hand, smiles at him, and her throat hurts from not crying.

…

…

She visits Sam Wilson's group at the VA, listens as he finishes talking with a young woman with PTSD, as Sam tells her about his wingman. Remembers desperately grabbing for Bucky as he fell off the train, Steve's scream piercing through the air, Bucky's face on her as he fell. Panicked, calling out _PeggySteve_ as if it were one name. That sound ringing in her ears all night long. Steve laying beside her, crying unabashedly as he held her tight, as if afraid that she would somehow disappear too.

Sam smiles and jokes and tells her to get into Ultimate Fighting. “It's just a great idea off the top of my head,” he grins while Peggy laughs at the notion. “But seriously, you could do whatever you want to now. What makes you happy?”

Peggy blanches. “I don't know.”

It feels like her entire adult life has just been war. Serving. Fighting for what's right. She doesn't know what she is without it.

…

…

Peggy walks back to her apartment and nearly knocks into her next door neighbor. “Sorry.”

Brooke shrugs it off, hanging up her phone and smiling down at Peggy. She's one of the tallest women Peggy's met in a while. Beautiful too. Peggy can see why Natasha keeps trying to get her to ask the woman on a date. Not to mention, Kristen from Statistics, Greg from the labs, Javier from Research, four different field agents, and Angie.

“Ex-husband's kind of an insomniac. Thinks calling me and shooting arrows will help,” she says with a bright grin.

“Odd.”

Brooke laughs, dropping her cell phone into her laundry basket. “Yeah well, he grew up as a carnie. They've got a different way of looking at the world.”

“It's nice, that you're still friends.”

Brooke's smile changes, no less fond, just different. “Yeah. We were always better that way.”

Peggy nods to her laundry basket. “You're welcome to use my machine. Rather than trucking it all the way down to the basement.”

“Thanks. But I've already got a load downstairs anyway. Plus, I had a shift in infectious diseases today. Wouldn't want my scrubs in your wash. Trust me.”

Peggy grimaces slightly, but smiles at Brooke. “Ah, well, I'll keep my distance then.”

“Hopefully not too far,” Brooke says. Peggy's eyes shoot up to hers, but Brooke only smiles at her.

“Well,” Peggy steps backwards. “I should...” pointing towards her apartment.

“Sure, have a good night Peggy. Oh, and I think you might've left your radio on.”

“Oh,” Peggy turns, noticing the sound for the first time. “Thank you.”

She turns to her apartment suspiciously. She didn't leave the radio on. There's a chance Angie jimmied the lock and let herself in. She learned a few things from her brothers over the years. (A few months back, she broke in and left Peggy a huge stack of Captain America comic books, three dvds of Captain America movies, a t-shirt, and a coffee mug as a prank.) But, she had also texted Peggy right before in warning. She wouldn't just break in unannounced, she respects Peggy's privacy. 

The apartment is dark. A man is sitting in her armchair. “I don't recall giving you a key,” Peggy tells Nick Fury calmly.

Fury chuckles darkly. “You think I need one?” he asks. “My wife kicked me out.”

Peggy freezes. “I didn't know you were married,” she says as she reaches over to turn on the light. Fury is bleeding onto her carpet. He raises a finger to his lips, and shuts the light back off, limping forward and holding out his cell phone to Peggy.

 _'ears everywhere'_ It says on the screen.

“There are a lot of things you don't know about me,” he says aloud.

Peggy grits her teeth. “I know, that's the problem. Who else knows about your wife?” she asks, keeping up the charade.

He holds up the cell phone again. _'you and me'._ “Just... my friends.”

Peggy stares at him dead on. “Is that what we are?” she asks.

“That's up to you,” Fury says.

Then, someone starts shooting through Peggy's wall.

Peggy drops to the ground, trying to cover Fury, but there are already three shots in him. Whomever is across the way, they have precision that Peggy has only seen once before. Peggy drags Fury into the kitchen, hoping to get him out of range. He presses a thumb drive into her fingers and grips the collar of her shirt tightly. “Don't trust anyone,” he whispers before slipping unconscious.

“Captain Carter?” a voice calls out. Her neighbor, Brooke, slips into the room in her pajama's, holding a gun. Peggy stumbles in shock. “Captain,” she says, eyes darting around the room. “I'm an agent with SHIELD's special service.”

“Brooke?” Peggy gasps.

“It's Bobbi actually. I'm assigned to protect you.”

“Oh whose order?” Peggy demands.

Bobbi looks down at Fury's unmoving body. “His.”

Peggy notices the shooter outside her window, calls to Bobbi to radio in that she's in pursuit, and chases after him. The man moves quickly. Peggy takes notice of shaggy brown hair, and a metal arm before whipping her shield at him. He turns, catching it in one hand and glaring at Peggy. No one has ever been able to do that before. Peggy gasps again, watching as he leaps from the building and disappears.

…

…

Nick Fury bleeds out on an operation table, Peggy watching with Natasha beside her. Peggy hears her whisper, “Don't do this to me Nick,” and wonders just what happened for her to give this man her loyalty. They might be the two most distrustful people Peggy has ever met.

Natasha grills her about Fury being in her apartment. Peggy doesn't tell her a thing. Doesn't tell Alexander Pierce a thing either, glares as Bobbi Morse passes her in the hall, annoyed that she hadn't been able to tell the woman was an agent. Clint's ex-wife at that.

Alexander Pierce tells Peggy about his friendship with Nick Fury. Suggests that Fury had a hand in hiring the pirates Peggy fought with Natasha only a few weeks ago. Goes on about being a realist and having to tear the old world down to build a new one and Peggy stands stiffly, uncomfortable the entire time. Even if Nick Fury's last words to her hadn't been not to trust anyone, Peggy wouldn't trust the man before her now. Especially not as he stops her on her way out the room. “Captain,” he says, the word fumbling in his mouth. The way it always does with men who resent acknowledging Peggy's rank. Who resent a woman inside of her uniform. “Someone murdered my friend and I'm going to find out why. Anyone who gets in my way is going to regret it,” he pauses, staring Peggy in the eye. “Anyone,” he emphasizes.

“Understood,” Peggy says, and walks out of the room. The threat well felt.

Peggy walks into the elevator and watches as more agents slip in at each floor, all making idle chatter, none of them looking Peggy in the eye. One man has his hand on his gun, and another is sweating.

Amateurs.

“Before we start,” Peggy says to the room, silencing them. “Would anyone like to step out?”

There is a moment's hesitation, then all of the agents jump her at once, Peggy slamming her shield and fists into them as hard as she can.

“It's nothing personal,” Rumlow says as he tries to land a punch.

Peggy blocks it with her shield, then slams him to the ground. “It feels just a bit personal,” she snaps.

As the elevator doors open, more agents stand there, pointing their guns at Peggy, ordering her to lower her shield and stand down. Peggy catches sight of Sharon off in the distance, her gun not drawn, but in it's holster at her side, looking at Peggy in shock. Peggy holds her gaze for one moment, then rips out the wiring in the elevator, sending it crashing to the ground, only to be met with more agents at the bottom, telling her that she has nowhere to go.

So, Peggy crashes through the glass wall and takes off running.

Bullets flying past her and helicopters hover above her as she runs. Peggy runs and runs until she can slip out of their sight, feeling the sting of betrayal with each step that she takes.

…

…

The flash drive is no longer in the vending machine. In hindsight, it was a bloody terrible place to stash it.

Natasha comes into view behind her, blowing a bubble with her gum. Peggy growls and slams her into the wall. “Where is it?” she demands.

“Safe,” is all Natasha says, unperturbed to have Peggy's arms gripping her shoulders so tightly.

“You'll have to do better than that.”

“Where'd you get it?”

“Why on earth would I tell _you_ that?”

“Fury gave it to you,” Natasha says, “why?”

“What is on it?” Peggy asks.

“I don't know.”

“Stop lying!” Peggy yells at her.

Natasha gives her an odd look, almost relaxing in Peggy's hold. “I only act like I know everything Carter.”

Peggy loosens her grip on Natasha, stepping back from her and running her fingers through her hair. It's falling out of its ponytail. It probably looks a fright. Peggy hates that she cares. Natasha pulls the flash drive out of nowhere and holds it up to Peggy. “I know who killed Fury,” she says, goes on about a ghost story, whispers of a man hardly anyone believes even exists: the Winter Solider. The way the name falls out of Natasha's mouth indicates she's more familiar with the tale in question than she is letting on. Peggy watches her make up a story about Iran five years ago. Or, maybe telling the truth, part of it anyway. Natasha lifts her shirt up and shows Peggy a bullet wound, jokes about bikinis. It could be true. It could be fake. Natasha certainly knows more than she's letting on. Peggy jokes back regardless.

“Yes, I'm sure one would look just atrocious on you now.”

Natasha grins at her. “Going after him is a dead end,” she warns. “I've tried. Like you said, he's a ghost story.”

Peggy takes the flash drive from her hands, “Well let's find out what the ghost wants.”

…

…

That's how Peggy finds herself in a mall, dressed in casual clothes, Natasha's arm lazily looped through her own.

“As soon as we stick the drive in a computer, SHIELD will know exactly where we are,” Natasha warns her, pulling Peggy into a computer store. Malls are still overwhelming to her. Angie had brought her to one to get her some new clothes last year. Peggy had felt claustrophobic and dizzy. She hasn't been back. The smell of the food court made her sick for days. It clung to her clothes no matter how many times she washed them.

“How much time will we have?” Peggy asks, focusing on the task at hand.

“About nine minutes.” Natasha sticks the drive into one of the open laptops on the counter and starts clicking away. Faster than Peggy can follow. “The drive's protected by some sort of AI,” she says after a minute. “It keeps rewriting itself to alter my commands.”

“Can you override it?” Peggy asks.

“The person who developed this was slightly smarter than me,” Natasha quips, never looking up from what she is doing. “Slightly,” she adds. “I'm going to try running a trace. If we can't find out what's on it, maybe we can at least find out where it's from.”

“Alright.” Peggy stiffens as an employee walks over towards them.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asks.

Before Peggy can even open her mouth to get rid of him, Natasha beats her to it. Turning from the laptop and snaking an arm around Peggy's waist, a bright grin on her face, she says, “Oh no, my fiancé and I were just looking for some honeymoon destinations.”

“Right,” Peggy says through gritted teeth, leaning into Natasha and smiling at the employee. “We're getting married.” It sounds like a terrible cover, but the man lights up.

“Awesome! My sister's gay too! Where are you guys thinking of going?”

Peggy looks down at the computer screen at the same time as the man. “New Jersey.”

“Oh.” He points to Peggy's face. “Hey, I've got the same glasses.”

“Wow,” Natasha says dryly. “You two are practically twins.” Peggy pinches her side. Natasha grins, her gaze still at the computer, and hip checks her. The employee walks away, waving to them. “Wheaton, New Jersey,” Natasha says, pulling the flash drive out of the computer. “You know it?”

“Used to.” Peggy leads them out of the store and immediately takes note of the agents entering the mall. “Two agents in front, two in back, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I'll distract them, you slip out to the metro. We'll meet in Wheaton.” Peggy slides her arm around Natasha's shoulders and fakes a laugh. Natasha leaning into her and laughing the exact moment Peggy does. They do work well together. The agents walk past them, and Natasha pulls Peggy onto the escalator.

There are more agents on the escalator, coming up and scanning the room. There is no way they'll slip by unnoticed. Peggy balls her hands into fists, preparing to fight and run, but Natasha whips around and grabs Peggy's shirt.

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Natasha drawls out.

“Yes,” Peggy agrees, leaning back slightly from Natasha. “They do.”

Natasha reaches up and grabs Peggy's face, pulling her down into a kiss. It only lasts a moment, and when she looks up, she grins at Peggy slyly. “They're gone, come on.”

…

…

Peggy hot wires a car. The impressed look on Natasha's face almost causing her to add extra flourishes that they don't have time for.

Natasha slides into the truck and immediately kicks her feet up onto the dash. Not looking like a woman on the run in the slightest. More casual in fact, than Peggy has ever seen her before.

“So,” she asks once they've gotten on the highway, “where'd Captain America learn how to steal a car?”

“Nazi Germany. And we're borrowing it. Not stealing.”

“Mm. Alright, I have a question for you, of which you do not have to answer. But, I feel like if you don't answer it, you _are_ kind of answering it, you know?”

Peggy sighs, “What?”

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?”

“That terrible?”

“I didn't say that.”

“It sounds like that's what you're implying.”

“No. I just wondered how much practice you had.”

Peggy shifts in her seat, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I don't need practice.”

“Everybody needs practice.”

Peggy takes her eyes off the road for a moment, glaring across the dash at Natasha. “It was _not_ my first kiss since 1945. I'm ninety-five years old, not dead.”

Natasha doesn't stop smirking for the next ten miles.

“Nobody special, though?” she asks once they're nearly to New Jersey.

Peggy chuckles, a little harshly. “Believe it or not, it's a bit hard to find someone with shared life experience. Not everyone you meet has been suspended in time for seventy years. Bit of an ice breaker.”

“Well, that's alright, you just make something up. The truth is only a matter of circumstances.”

“Hell of a way to live.”

Natasha's voice drops low, “It's a good way not to die, though,” she hums.

“Bit hard to trust someone if you don't know who that someone truly is.”

“Yeah,” Natasha smirks, “who do you want me to be?”

“How about a friend?”

Natasha laughs softly. “Well, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Carter.”

…

…

They step up to the old military base and Peggy is flooded with memories. She trained Steve here. They find what was probably SHIELD's first headquarters hidden in one of the buildings. There is a picture of Steve, Howard and Chester Phillips on a desk. Natasha notices her staring at it. “Who's the little guy?” she asks, sounding very much like she knows exactly who it is. Peggy doesn't answer.

They walk through a room of old computers and Natasha plugs in the flash drive, turning to Peggy and grinning. “Shall we play a game?” she jokes once the computer prompts her a question on the screen. “It's from a movie that—”

“—Yes, I saw it.”

A voice comes out of the speakers, echoing in the large, empty room. “Margaret Carter, born 1918, Richmond, Virginia.” Pictures of Peggy dance across the screen. School photographs, her military records, Captain America footage. Peggy watches with rapt attention, Natasha backing away from the computer to stand beside her. “Natalia Alianovna Romanova, born 1928, Stalingrad.” Photographs of a small, lithe redhead fighting a grown man split across the screen and Natasha sucks in a breath beside Peggy. They switch almost faster than she can comprehend them.

“It's a recording or something?” Peggy says. Natasha is silent and stiff beside her.

“I am not a recording Fräulein. Tell me, do you not recognize the man you took prisoner in 1945?” A picture of Dr Arnim Zola appears on one of the screens and Peggy clenches her teeth.

“You know him?” Natasha asks.

“Arnim Zola. He was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. But... he's been dead for years.”

“Wrong again, Fräulein.” Peggy and Natasha watch the screens as Zola's voice tells them HYDRA has been a part of SHIELD since the beginning. Peggy watches the images of Howard and his wife's death at their hand and wants to punch something. So, she does. Zola's face just appears on another computer screen, continuing on. Natasha looks sick.

The doors behind them begin to close, and Zola laughs on the screen, admits he has been stalling as Natasha grabs the flash drive. “It's SHIELD,” she says.

Peggy notices a hole in the ground and smashes it further open, grabbing Natasha by the waist and pulling her close. She throws up her shield above them and closes her eyes, feeling Natasha's heartbeat against her own.

When it's clear enough Peggy risks moving, Natasha is out cold. Blood on her forehead as more explosions go off around them. Peggy hauls her up into her arms and carries her out of the building, depositing her in the borrowed truck and driving out of the military base as quickly as she can.

…

…

Angie leaves her fourteen voice messages, and thirty-two text messages in the span of forty minutes. Peggy clicks her phone on silent and keeps driving. When Natasha wakes up, she reaches for Peggy's phone as it lights up again.

“The waitress is lying to SHIELD for you,” she says, passing the phone over after glancing at the screen.

“What!”

Peggy takes the phone and listens to the first voicemail.

_'English, a buncha dudes in suits came over to my apartment like half an hour ago. Asking me all these questions about you. All I told 'em is that you like your burgers well done and that I was late for rehearsal. But I don't have rehearsal today, and you better call me.'_

Peggy keeps her eyes on the road and lets it trail into the next message.

_'English, I'm not kidding, call me. One of the guys is sitting in the lobby.'_

_'Are they're more aliens? If there are more aliens I'm gonna be so pissed.'_

Natasha chuckles from beside Peggy. The phone may as well be on speaker for how much Angie insists on 'projecting and enunciating properly'.

_'Peggy, a dude in a suit is literally taking pictures of my dirty laundry down in the basement. I have dance thongs in there. Why the hell are your co-workers taking pictures of my underwear!'_

Natasha can't hold back her laughter now. Peggy's fingers grip the steering wheel much tighter than is necessary.

_'Are you dead or something? I know you forget your phone sometimes English but I sent you like twenty texts already.'_

_'I'm leaving my apartment, I don't care if this guy follows me. I'm starving.'_

_'Peggy, if you're dead, I am gonna murder you. I know I've got scrawny arms, but I grew up with five older brothers, I'll find a way.'_

“Better call her back and tell her you're not dead before she stops trying to hide from the agent and starts asking him too many questions,” Natasha says. Peggy sighs and starts to dial, but Natasha takes her phone out of her hands. “Not on this. First thing SHIELD probably did was put tracers on your cell. We need somewhere to lay low for a bit.”

“I think I might know a place,” Peggy says.

…

…

Sam doesn't hesitate to let them into his apartment.

Peggy and Natasha clean up in his bedroom. There is dirt underneath Peggy's fingernails that won't seem to wash away no matter how long Peggy scrubs at them. When she gives up, turns and walks out of the adjoining bathroom, Natasha is silently towel-drying her hair on Sam's bed. She looks up at Peggy, as confused and vulnerable as Peggy's ever seen her.

“Are you alright?” Peggy asks.

“Yeah.”

She's clearly not. Peggy walks over and sits down beside her. “What is it?”

Natasha sighs, picking at the strings in the towel and not looking at Peggy. “It's just... when I joined SHIELD I thought I was going straight. But I guess... I was just trading in the KGB for HYDRA. One Red Room for another. I thought I knew whose lies I was telling,” she stops picking at the towel, just holds it loosely in her hands, almost refusing to touch the thing in her grasp. “Maybe I can't tell the difference anymore.”

“There's a chance you might be in the wrong business,” Peggy says, repeating Natasha's words from earlier that morning. It gets her the smile that she was aiming for, if only for a moment.

“I owe you,” Natasha says.

“No,” Peggy tells her. “It's okay.”

Natasha bites at the corner of her bottom lip, picks another string off Sam's towel. Probably ruining it forever as it unravels. “If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life, would you trust me to do it?” she asks, voice low. “Be honest,” she adds before Peggy can answer.

“I would now.” Peggy tells her, and means it. She isn't sure quite when it happened, but somewhere along the line, she put her trust into this woman. Peggy can count the number of people she's ever _truly_ trusted on one hand. Now, Natasha's name is on that small list.

Natasha turns finally and stares at Peggy, looking surprised at her answer. She holds Peggy's gaze for a moment, then nods, as if deciding something. Whatever it is, she doesn't voice it.

“I made you guys breakfast,” Sam says, coming up and leaning against the doorframe. “If you hero types eat that sort of thing.”

Peggy rises, Natasha following her as they walk with Sam into his kitchen. “Girl, what the hell did you do to my towel?” Sam asks as Natasha drops the remains into his hands.

Natasha only grins slyly and pops a fresh strawberry into her mouth. She turns to Peggy. “Better call your girl.”

Peggy does _not_ blush at the moniker. “Sam, may I use your telephone?”

“Sure,” he tosses her the cordless phone and plops down to eat with Natasha. Peggy lifts her plate up and steps out onto the little porch. Her breakfast plate propped up on her knees as the phone rings.

“Hello?” Angie's voice crackles into the line, sounding suspicious.

“Angie, it's Peg—”

“English!” Angie yells. Peggy pulls the phone away from her ear. “Where the hell have you _been?_ Have you seen the news? People are calling you a traitor. Bridges are being blocked and your picture's up everywhere and those goons in suits won't stop following me around.”

“Can they hear you right now?”

“Probably, hang on.” Peggy waits, hearing shuffling on the other end of the line. Then music and running water. “Okay, I'm in the bathtub. Water in the sink is running. Follies cast recording is playing. What's going on?”

Peggy stifles a laugh. Now is really not the time to find Angie utterly adorable. People are trying to kill her.

“Well, I'm not a traitor,” Peggy starts.

“Duh.”

Peggy can't hold her smile back at how quickly Angie says that.

“I can't really... well, it's all rather complicated. Don't trust the SHIELD agents. My neighbor, Brooke, is actually an agent named Bobbi. And, I'm not sure about Sharon. But, to be safe, don't trust either of them if they come 'round.”

“Okay, but... where are you? Are you safe?”

“Yes.”

Angie is silent for a moment. Peggy listens to Bernadette Peters sing about losing her mind in the background. _'The sun comes up, I think about you'_ Peggy slips a bit of scrambled eggs into her mouth. She hadn't grabbed any silverware. She licks her fingers clean and listens to Angie breathe. _'Not going left, not going right.'_

“Okay...” Angie finally says, “well... don't, don't go off and do something stupid and heroic and get yourself killed. I'm running low on friends I can actually stand these days.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Liar,” Angie says. Peggy can hear the grin in her voice.

She hangs up the phone and takes her now cold food back into the kitchen. Natasha looks up immediately, files in her hand. “You didn't tell me he was a para-rescue,” she accuses. Peggy glances over Natasha's shoulder.

“I thought you said you were a pilot,” Peggy says in Sam's direction. When she looks up, he's beaming, cocky and thoroughly enjoying himself.

“I never said pilot.”

“I can't ask you to do this Sam,” Peggy starts. “You got out for a good reason. Natasha and I are the two most wanted people in the country right now. It was a risk even coming here.”

“Dude, Captain America needs my help,” Sam says, easy as breathing. “There's no better reason to get back in.” No one has ever just followed her into something just like that. Not since Steve. Not since Bucky grinned at her sideways and clapped a hand on both their backs. Called Peggy Cap, and followed her orders without hesitation, and glared at anyone who looked at her funny.

“Where do you suppose one could get their hands on one of these?” Peggy asks, pointing to the photograph of metal wings.

“Well, the last one I know of is in Fort Meade. Behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.”

Peggy looks over at Natasha. She shrugs her shoulders.

“Shouldn't be a problem then,” Peggy says cheerfully.

…

…

It proves to be far easier to kidnap a SHIELD officer than it should be. Peggy shoves Jasper Sitwell across the roof and grins at him as he taunts that she won't actually throw him off.

“I think you might have me confused with someone else,” Peggy says calmly. Then, kicks him in the chest, sending him screaming to his imminent death.

Natasha turns to her. “So, you gonna ask that waitress out or not? If she's not your type, what about that guy in accounting? Luke? Larry?”

“The one with the lip piercing?” Natasha nods. “Lorcan, I believe.”

“Yeah. He's cute in that scrawny kinda way. Seems like your type.”

“I don't know if I'm quite ready for that.”

“Cause you're super into the waitress.”

“She's mostly an actress now. And she has a name.”

Sam files up, Sitwell screaming in his arms, and dumps the man down onto the roof before gently landing beside Peggy and Natasha. The three of them walk towards Sitwell, and he starts talking the moment they turn around. “The algorithm is a program for choosing Project Insight's targets!”

“What targets?” Peggy demands.

“You!” he yells. “A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, Tony Stark. A high school valedictorian in Iowa city, Bruce Banner, some girl reporter with alliteration in her name. Anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future.”

“In the future? How could it possibly know?”

Sitwell laughs darkly. “Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores. Zola's algorithm evaluates peoples' past to predict their future.”

“What then? What does it do with the information?”

“Scratch people off the list. A few million at a time.”

Peggy's blood runs cold.

…

…

Sam drives, Peggy in the passenger seat, while Natasha sits in the back, glaring at Sitwell. The best option Peggy can come up with is using Sitwell to get around the DNA scans to get into the Helicarriers. They'll have to figure out a way to shut them down.

Sitwell doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the plan.

Before he can voice his concerns beyond, “It's a terrible, terrible plan,” someone slams into the top of the car and pulls him out into the road. Killing him instantly. There isn't even a second for Peggy to register what's happened before Natasha is throwing herself into Peggy's lap, pulling Peggy's head forward as a bullet lands into the back of her seat. Where her head had been seconds before. There isn't time to say thank you, more shots fire out and Sam yells, trying to control the car. Peggy kicks her door out, gets an arm around Natasha, who's already in her lap, and yells for Sam to move over too. Natasha grabs him, and Peggy gets a good grip on her shield, dropping them all out of the car. They skid along the pavement dangerously before coming to a stop. Then, they break apart and run in opposite directions as HYDRA agents chase after them.

Peggy can hear Natasha yelling to civilians to get out of the way, and has a moment to consider how she had gotten her so wrong upon their first meeting two years ago. Bullets fly around her, and Peggy throws up her shield, looking for Sam, unsure if he's safe or not.

She sees Natasha throw herself on top of the shoulders of a man with a metal arm, fighting him like she knows his movements. But she takes a bullet to the shoulder and Peggy runs, slamming into the man with her shield. He whips his head around angrily and Peggy catches sight of his face, gasping.

“James?” she whispers in shock.

The man tilts his head to the side, almost robotic. “Who the hell is James?” he asks before advancing on her.

“Bucky!” Peggy yells. “It's _me_. It's Peggy!”

He punches her so hard in the chest, it feels almost like it did before she had the serum. Peggy doesn't want to fight him, just throws up defensive moves, trying to get his attention. “You called me Margaret as much as possible to annoy me. You kissed me in front of Steve to embarrass him. Steve! Surely you remember Steve?”

Bucky hesitates, if only for a split second. And then he raises his gun, about to shoot Peggy where she stands. Sam flies in, and knocks the gun out of his hand. Natasha comes up behind Peggy, bleeding but refusing to leave Peggy alone in the fight. When she turns again, Bucky is gone. HYDRA agents have got an injured Natasha in their grip and Sam is being put into handcuffs. Agents surround Peggy, guns drawn, screaming at her to drop her shield and surrender. Helicopters and cameras surround them, and Peggy has nowhere to go. She watches Sam mouth off to the men cuffing him, whining that it doesn't have to be so damn tight. Natasha struggles for all she's worth, her eyes on Peggy the entire time, refusing defeat until Peggy does. Peggy looks out at the space where Bucky had been only moments before and _knows_. She was right. It was Bucky. Her heart's beating too hard inside her chest.

Peggy drops her shield, listening to the deafening clang as it hits the asphalt, and kneels to the ground, arms raised in surrender.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyoo, wrote that a lot faster than i thought i would. but, there is a possibility the next bit actually will be a little while. my mom and sister fly in tonight, and i dunno how much free time i'll have to myself while they're here. just kinda have to see how it goes. 
> 
> anyway, thank you for all the kudos and comments! i'm glad you're enjoying it:)

Captain America is named a traitor to the American public and arrested by her own people. Her arrest is as public as it gets; live-streamed on Youtube, in a quality far greater than a teenager with a smartphone could capture. People on Twitter argue over whether or not Fox News leaked it on purpose. They've been staunchly anti-Captain America since she was found in the Arctic.

Angie watches the whole thing on her cellphone in her dressing room, seething. The stream gets interrupted as her brother, Michael, calls her.

“Dude, they arrested your hero,” he says in lieu of greeting.

“Mikey, shut up,” Angie says, because she's too angry to think of anything better. It works as well as anything else, Mikey has never needed much introduction to get a conversation going. He starts going on and on about the creepy man with the metal arm, and the solider who can _fly._ “He can't fly,” Angie corrects, pulling the video up on her laptop instead. She _should_ be putting on her makeup right now. Getting ready for the start of her show in forty-five minutes. Instead, she's watching the same clip over and over: Peggy's face, full of defeat and exhaustion, the sound of her shield clanging against the pavement. Angie wants to shake her and hug her at the same time. But, she needs to know _where she is_ first. “He's got metal wings that can fly. There's a difference.”

“He's still _flying_ Ang. It's fucking amazing.”

He's not _wrong_ , Angie's just got a lot more important things on her mind right now is all. She can only concentrate on so many things at once. Her head feels too full. Swimmy. Fuzzy. Like when she was ten and her brother, Gino, accidentally hit her in the head with a baseball. She'd heard Ma screaming at him, but it sounded very far away. Eddie holding her hadn't felt real. Nothing had. Not till after she woke up in the hospital room the second time, exhausted and pumped full of painkillers. Mikey and Eddie making faces at her through her green jello while Gino apologized.

This isn't just exhaustion that she feels right now, it's _powerlessness_. Peggy is so far away, being treated like a criminal, and Angie _can't do a damn thing about it._ It's not right.

Angie watches the men slap cuffs onto Peggy's wrists again and again and again. Mikey still going on in her ear. Hits replay. Watches the way Peggy's face sags. Not a single tear to be found. Just... giving up.

It's not right. It's not right. It's not right. _It's not right._

“Angie?” a knock on her door. “Half hour.”

Angie puts Mikey on speaker, pauses the videoclip on a close up of Peggy's face and starts applying her stage makeup.

Her hands shake so much she has to re-do her eyeliner three times. She's late for places, sprinting down the stairs and into the wings. The only reason she hits all her marks and says her lines and doesn't step on anyone's toes is muscle memory. The director yells at her after the curtain drops, everyone gathered onstage for notes.

“Angie, you're supposed to be a young girl falling in love. You looked mad the whole time.”

 _I am._ Angie thinks, and walks offstage.

…

…

She calls Sharon five times as she rides the subway downtown. Tries Brooke— _no, Bobbi_ , she corrects—three times. Bobbi picks up on the forth try.

“Hello?” she asks, suspiciously.

“It's Angie, Peggy's friend. I gave you a cup of sugar that one time. Kinda spilled it down your shirt and had to give you another one. My brother, Lucca tried to hit on you.”

“Yeah... hard to forget.”

“So, you're a spy,” Angie says, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“I—”

“Spy that's got enough clearance to let me into that fancy building of yours?” Angie asks, pulling up to the address that she is _not_ supposed to know.

“Angie,” Bobbi says, slow, careful, nervous-like. “Where exactly are you?”

“Right outside,” she throws some cash at the cabbie and glares up at the shinny building. It's not so impressive. “Better come let me bail out my friend. I brought a buncha credit cards and my wallet. And I'm not leaving without her.”

“Angie—”

Before Bobbi can finish that sentence, gunshots start ringing out into the air. Sirens start going off. The cabbie peels away from the curb quick-like, leaving Angie staring up to the sky as helicopters circle the building. Angie stares for half a second, then does something real stupid. Something Peggy'd probably yell at her for if she were here. But, she's _not_ , and that's sorta the problem.

“I'm coming in!” Angie yells. Hangs up, and shoves her way inside.

Like an idiot.

…

…

Everything inside of the building is chaos. It's probably the only reason that Angie isn't arrested and shoved into some secret government prison on sight.

People are running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Angie grabs a badge off a guy's waist as he dodges past her. She grips it in her hand tightly and just walks forward. No idea where she is going. No one pays her any mind.

She uses the badge to get into a room that's full of computer screens. Agents and analysts everywhere. A man's got a gun trained on a curly-haired guy who's shaking with nerves. The only other time Angie's ever been this close to a gun was the night the automat got robbed. Peggy'd come to her rescue then. But Peggy is the one who needs rescuing right now, so, Angie swallows and doesn't leave the room.

She sees a blonde woman move, pull out her own gun and point it at the man. _Sharon._

“Like he said, Captain's orders,” Sharon snarls. Angie could kiss her.

The man turns, glaring at Sharon with pure loathing. “You picked the wrong side little girl.”

Sharon shrugs, somehow looking just like Peggy. “Depends on where you're standing.”

Suddenly, a bunch more agents rise, guns drawn, and Angie backs up. Knocking into someone. “You've _got_ to be kidding me,” a familiar voice says, gripping Angie's arm tight. “You really got in?”

Angie turns, giving Bobbi a shaky little grin, holds up the swiped badge. “I'm thinking it might not have been the best idea I've ever had.”

“You think?”

Shots start ringing out, and Angie screams, unable to help herself. Bobbi shoves her down underneath a desk and hisses at her not to move. Angie really doesn't have to be told that twice.

It feels like before, like two years ago, seeing aliens fall from the sky and people screaming all around her. Being torn apart like they were nothing. The city falling down, down, down. Throwing herself into the basement and shaking as the world fell all around her. Listening to it echoing in her ears. Not knowing if Ma or her brothers were okay. If Peggy was okay. Listening to the whole world spilt apart and not being able to do a thing about it.

Angie can see some of the computer screens from underneath the desk. Peggy is up on one of them, leaping onto an aircraft and being chased by that man with the metal arm. Angie clings to her knees and prays. Prays like she hasn't since she was a little kid.

_Please, please, please let her be okay._

She doesn't make any of the same old promises to God that she used to. (No more lying to Ma. No more sneaking into Gino's room to look at the magazines he stuffs underneath his mattress. No more digging her fingernails into Heather Thompson's thigh when she laughs and calls Angie a freak. No more thinking of Claudia Giovani and touching herself. No more spitting in Gran's food when she's not looking. She'll do all her homework. All her chores. She'll be a good girl.) Instead, Angie only makes one.

_You can take me instead._

It's the only thing she can come up with. The only thing that seems fair. A soul for a soul. Isn't that what Gran always used to go on and on about when she was quoting the Bible at her?

A man falls down to the floor in front of her, blood pouring outta his gut faster than Angie thought possible. She always thought that she would be the type of person who would reach out and help, but, his half dead eyes stare back at her, terrified and Angie curls up tighter into herself. Pressing her back as hard into the edge of the desk as she can, trying to get away from the blood. She can't stop staring at his eyes. She tries to focus on her breathing. _In. Out. In. Out._ The man makes a terrible gagging noise and his whole body starts seizing. Angie whines, sucks in air too hard and starts choking on nothing but her own fear.

The building shakes around her twice, so hard that Angie bites her tongue. Tasting metal. Angie looks past the body on the floor and up to the screen. The aircraft Peggy had jumped onto explodes. A hint of a red and blue circle drops down to the ground. Angie laughs, and she presses her lips tight to keep the sound inside, and she swallows it down, and then she doesn’t laugh at all.

…

…

Someone drags her outside. Strong arms nearly carrying her, blonde hair falls into Angie's face, tickling at her skin. Bobbi shakes her, a little too roughly. “Angie,” she repeats over and over. “Angie, look at me.”

Angie just sees explosions. A red and blue shield falling down to the earth.

“Fuck,” Bobbi hisses, turning around and looking out at the hoard of people. “Carter!” she yells.

Angie whips her head around, but it's the wrong Carter. Sharon walks up to them, looking confused and like her whole world has been shattered too. There's a lot of that going around today.

“Why is she here?”

“I don't know, I think she needs a medic.” Bobbi grabs her shoulders again. “Angie,” she says calmly. She is _so_ calm. Angie doesn't know how. It must be an act. “Are you hurt?”

“She's bleeding,” Sharon says, coming right up to her and tilting her face up to look for cuts.

“I bit my tongue,” Angie explains. “A guy died in front of me. And I bit my tongue.”

Sharon and Bobbi share a look over her head. Worried. The sentiment is kinda nice, but Angie just wants them to leave her alone. Peggy's dead. They work for the people who tried to kill her. Who did kill her. And her tongue really does hurt.

“Is she—” Sharon starts. She's cut off when two men come running up to them. “Trip!” Sharon exclaims, reciprocating as he wraps her up in a tight hug.

“Nice to see you're still alive Mack,” Bobbi says, teasing the other. He reaches over and squeezes her hand.

“You're very large,” Angie tells him, staring at his shoulders. He frowns, looking to Bobbi for an explanation.

“Long story. Civilian. Needs to get checked out.”

“No,” Angie protests. “I don't want—”

“I'll take her,” Sharon offers, wrapping her hand gently around Angie's arm and tugging her. Not giving her much choice. “I'll come back after.”

Angie walks with Sharon, only reason she doesn't trip over her own feet is the grip that Sharon's got on her. Her tongue aches. She turns and looks back at the building. It's in shambles. Half of New York is still in shambles. Two years later, they're still rebuilding. Now, they've got to add another thing to the list.

“Your shield sucks,” Angie mumbles.

Sharon clenches her teeth, glaring over at the building too. “I know.”

…

…

Sharon doesn't let go of Angie's arm. They walk into the hospital together, and the minute Sharon introduces herself at the front desk, the woman interrupts her. “Right, your aunt is in room 208.”

Sharon shuts up real quick.

Angie starts running, Sharon right at her heels.

Angie knocks right into a man covered in sweat and bruises. “Woah there girl, slow your roll.”

“Is she okay?”

“Cap? Yeah, she's out cold. But the docs say she'll be fine. Survived a damn explosion and falling into the river. Someone hauled her out. She'd be dead otherwise.”

“She's alright?” Sharon asks, not moving into the room. Her voice shakes, just a little.

The man nods. Angie looks up at him for the first time. He's the guy who can't actually fly. The one with metal wings she'd seen helping Peggy on the news. The guy Mikey wouldn't shut up about.

“Okay,” Sharon still doesn't take her eyes off Peggy, but she makes no move to go inside. “Are you—can you make sure a doctor checks her out?” she nods towards Angie. “I have to get back and help.”

“Sure,” the man looks them both over. “I'm Sam,” he holds his hand out to Sharon. “Sam Wilson. You HYDRA?”

Sharon looks up at him sharply. “No,” she snaps. Then walks back down the hall.

“She's Peggy's niece,” Angie supplies.

“Oh,” Sam watches her go. “And... you're the waitress?”

“Actress. But, yeah.”

“You're mouth is bleeding,” Sam points out.

“It's fine.”

“Alright.”

They both just stand there, staring in at Peggy for a moment before going in. Angie sags into a chair beside Peggy's bed and closes her eyes. Peggy's okay. Peggy's _not_ dead. Angie listens to the monitor beeping, proof that Peggy is still alive in there. She reaches over and laces her fingers with Peggy's. They're warm. She can hear Sam shuffling around a bit, then she hears music softly begin to play.

Marvin Gaye.

Angie holds on to Peggy's hand, her grip loosening a bit as she falls asleep. The monitor steadily beeping away in time with Peggy's heart.

…

…

She wakes up slowly. Feeling Peggy shuffle a bit beneath her. At some point, she'd given up leaning back in the chair, and leaned over to use Peggy's legs as a pillow instead. It's incredibly uncomfortable, leaning forward in the chair like that, but Angie stays that way, needing to feel Peggy alive and warm beneath her. She can still hear Marvin Gaye playing softly in the background. She hears Sam mumble, “On your left,” her eyes still closed. The body underneath her shakes a little with light laughter. “No,” Sam says, amusement in his voice, “on your left,” he repeats.

“Angie,” Peggy gasps, shifting some more. Angie's eyes shoot open and she sits up much faster than she should.

“English, I've got half a mind to kill you. It'd be real easy. I'd just have to yank all these wires out.” Sam chuckles loudly from her right and Peggy smiles at her, reaching for Angie's hand and gripping it tight. “I thought you were dead,” Angie chokes, feeling real stupid to be this emotional in front of some guy she doesn't know. Sam doesn't comment on it, just rises, and mentions something about coffee and being back in a bit. Leaving them to it.

“Angie—” Peggy starts.

“That thing exploded with you in it,” Angie snaps, pulling her hand outta Peggy's grasp, standing up and pacing the room. “I saw your shield fall from it! It—I am so _mad at you._ I specifically said not to go off and do something stupid and heroic and get yourself killed!”

“You did,” Peggy says, far too calmly. The amusement in her voice makes Angie want to scream. She steps over and punches Peggy real hard on the shoulder. “Ow!” Peggy yelps. “Angie, I'm in a _hospital bed!_ You can't just punch patients.”

Angie punches her again. Then she starts blubbering in a real embarrassing way, sinking down half onto the bed with Peggy. Her arms wrap around Angie and start rubbing at her back. “I'm sorry,” Peggy says softly. “I didn't know you were there. Why... exactly _were_ you there?”

“I was coming to rescue you,” Angie says through her tears. “I stole some of my brother's credit cards and brought my wallet. I was gonna post your bail and smuggle you into Canada. My oldest brother, Sal, lives there. He'd let you stay for a while if I asked.”

Peggy laughs, shaking Angie's head up and down on her chest. Then, she croaks a little in pain. Her fingers twining through Angie's hair. “I'm not sure money would have done it, but thank you.”

“Are you making fun of me English?”

“No,” Peggy says, fondly. “Thank you for trying.”

Angie wants to say, 'of course.' Wants to say she'd do it all over again. Wants to tell Peggy how much she needs her _not_ to go off and get herself hurt again. How much Angie _needs_ her.

How much she lov—

The words get stuck in her throat because they are too big to say out loud. They can't possibly pass through without ripping herself open, they can't. Besides, they're _friends_. They've been friends for almost three years now. Angie's gotten real good at swallowing down the things she wants to scream out loud.

So, instead, she says, “Sharon and Bobbi are on your side. So are two guys named Trip and Mack. Dunno what their real names are though. Those can't be it.”

Peggy smiles, running her fingers through Angie's hair again. “That's good to know,” she hums.

“Yeah,” Angie mutters sarcastically. “It's all real swell.”

…

…

Angie watches Natasha Romanova tell off the entire United States government on the news. It's damn impressive.

It's a little terrifying after Angie reads all about the things the woman has done on the internet. The files she released to the world don't paint a pretty picture. But the fact that she released them does. The fact that Peggy trusts her with her life does.

Showing up at Angie's apartment unannounced does scare the living shit outta her though.

“Thought it was way past time we were introduced,” is all Natasha says, sticking her hand out and smiling.

Angie just stares at her, waiting to maybe be murdered or something. When it occurs to her that nothing beyond a handshake is happening right now, she accepts it.

“Angie Martinelli,” she says. “Um... why...”

“Well, you're Peggy's best friend. And I'm... well I don't know what we are. Partners I guess. Kind of. Anyway, figured it'd be nice to put a face to the name.”

“Right,” Angie mumbles. “Best friend.”

Natasha smirks at her, says nothing for a few moments. Angie shifts her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet uncomfortably. Natasha doesn't seem bothered by the silence at all.

“So...”

“I'm going to be gone for a bit,” Natasha starts. “Wanted to meet you first. Check a few things out.”

“Like what?”

Natasha's smirk widens. “Carter's not gonna make the first move. Been trying to get her to for like a year. So, you might want to get on that.” Before Angie can so much as squawk in protest, Natasha leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “Keep an eye on her for me,” she whispers. Then, disappears. Leaving Angie gawking at nothing.

…

…

Peggy tells her all about Bucky, about how he saved her, about how she _has_ to go find him before anyone else does. How Steve would never forgive her if she didn't, how she'd never forgive herself, that Sam's coming with her.

Angie sits on Peggy's couch, leg bouncing a mile a minute and doesn't say a word, just keeps hearing Natasha's words ring around in her brain. _Carter's not gonna make the first move._

“Angie?” Peggy prompts. “Are you—”

Angie lunges at her. It's possibly the most ungraceful thing she has ever done in her life. Her teeth knock into Peggy's, and if Peggy hadn't grabbed her around the waist, she would've just fallen onto the floor.

“Angie!” Peggy yells. Angie doesn't give her time to say anything else. Now that Peggy's got a hold on her, she's not in any danger of falling to the floor again. She shoves their mouths back together, kissing Peggy fiercely. Afraid it'll be her only chance. Peggy pushes her away. “I—”

“I'm in love with you,” Angie spits out.

Peggy snaps her mouth shut, stares at Angie in shock, doesn't move one bit. The silence drags on and Angie wants to die, wants to kill Natasha Romanova, ex-KGB _lying asshole_ with her bare hands. She yanks herself outta Peggy's grasp and jumps up from the couch, moving towards the front door as fast as she can. Before she can get it open all the way, Peggy's hand reaches over her and slams it shut.

“Angie,” she breathes. Staring at her like... like she is something precious. Her eyes darting back and forth between Angie's lips and her eyes. Angie's legs feel like jelly.

“Look, English it's okay,” Angie starts. “I don't—”

Peggy grabs her by the back of her neck and kisses her, shocking Angie so much it takes her a second to reciprocate. When Peggy finally pulls back again, they're both breathing heavily, gasping for air. “I thought you didn't—I wanted to do that so many times,” Peggy admits, resting her forehead against Angie's.

Angie laughs. They could have had at least two whole years of making out like this. “Guess, my gran's right about some things. You never can tell much about a person by guessing,” she twirls the bottom of Peggy's shirt in her fingers. “That’s why language was invented. Otherwise, we’d all be like dogs, sniffing each other to find out where we stood.”

Peggy laughs, bright and hearty before pulling Angie back in again for another kiss. Angie can't believe how natural it feels; like they should have always been doing this. Peggy maneuvers them back over to the couch. Then lays half on top of Angie, kissing her slow and steady, and Angie whines into her mouth from the everything of it all.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah friends, i apologize in the delay for this chapter. i knew with my mom and sister here i wasn't going to get much writing done, BUT then, the night they were supposed to leave I GOT A STOMACH BUG. it was TERRIBLE. i haven't thrown up since like, high school at least. there was vomit and pain and me whining from a couch for someone to please stab me from wednesday to kinda saturday, kinda yesterday. ALAS, i am BETTER!!! and halfway through cranking this chapter out, realized that in fact, i need another one. so... yay for you guys i guess? unless something else terrible happens, i should have the last one out to you guys by the end of the week most likely. enjoy!
> 
> oh, and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tX5S9iXmMek) is the song in peggy's nightmare.

Angie absolutely _must_ rehearse barefoot.

She explains why to Peggy nearly two months after they meet, in a long winded speech she'd clearly had to repeat many times before, something about feeling grounded and free, and _knowing_ that it was stupid and superstitious but _goddammit it works,_ so! She speaks so quickly that Peggy has a hard time following. It appears to be a sore topic, so Peggy just nods and says, “Lovely,” before motioning for Angie to get back to it.

So, she runs around barefoot whenever she is learning new lines. Even in the middle of January in New York, shivering all the while. Peggy has taken to turning the thermostat up in Angie's apartment whenever she isn't looking.

She still believes in fairies. Something that she admits to Peggy in a whisper during the middle of the night while they're in bed a few weeks after they kiss for the first time. She admits that it's based in kindness, not faith. A fearful thing. Her ma read all of them _Peter Pan_ nearly every night when Angie was little. She and her brother, Mikey—the two youngest—would pretend to be pirates and sword fight each other after their mother turned off the lights. Mikey would insist on leaving the window open _just in case_. No matter how cold Angie complained that she was. Sometimes, she still wakes up in the middle of the night in a panic at the thought that she might stop one day. What a world, she whispers—running her thumb in circles on Peggy's stomach—to place the life of even as flawed a person as Tinkerbell in the hands of children’s ability to believe. So, _just in case;_ she doesn't want a fairy murder on her hands.

Her favorite ice cream flavor is mint chocolate chip. _But_ it has to be the green kind, not the white. The kind with the tiny slivers of chips, not the big chunks. The _absolute best_ is the kind that she and Mikey would ride their bikes four miles to get during their summers at Cape Cod back when they were kids. The small corner store closed when Angie was in the tenth grade, and she's never been able to find anything better. And she's looked everywhere. _I_ _t_ _i_ _s a travesty of the highest order._

She twirls the ends of her hair when she's bored. Her mother tells her that she is going to twirl herself a bald spot, tutting, and whacking Angie's hands down whenever she can. Angie just shifts to different chunks of her hair whenever she remembers.

She's also, Peggy's noticed, the sort of person who declares loudly that she dislikes puppies, small children and cat videos on the internet, but who will slip an extra scoop of ice cream to kids who come to the automat, and save the scraps from her plate to feed the stray cat that roams around the fire escape at Natasha’s apartment when she thinks that nobody's looking. Peggy has come to realize that she doesn’t like things that are too straightforward, or genuine, or emotional—not because she doesn’t like _them_ , but because she doesn’t like her own reaction to them. She has been dreaming of making it in show business since she was four years old. There isn't an honest person in the entire industry. Nothing that you can take at face value. There is always some double meaning to every little word or look directed towards her. So, Angie doesn't know what to do with it when presented with genuine emotions. Kids, and animals who just... are what they are; people looking her in the eye and saying exactly what they mean, nothing hidden behind it. It makes her tense, searching for something hidden underneath and coming up with nothing. The first time Peggy walked into the automat and said, absently, “Angie, you look lovely today,” she went stiff as a board and wouldn't look Peggy in the eye for the rest of the afternoon. She hasn’t worn that outfit to an audition since, either. The oddest thing about it is, Angie is by far the most blunt and genuine person that Peggy has ever met. She says exactly what she means, loudly, but never actually expects anyone else to reciprocate, doesn't know what to do with herself when they actually do.

There is a recipe for her grandmother's apple pie that she's been trying to figure out for the last six years. She refuses to ask her mother to ask her grandmother for the secret ingredient. She's tried just about everything that she can think of. Scoured the internet countless times for more ideas. Every once in a while, she spends an entire afternoon trying, nearly burning her apartment down in the process. Then she forgets about it again for months and months.

While they're kissing, Angie rubs her thumb along the inside of Peggy's wrist. A constant motion she barely notices doing, which drives Peggy absolutely _insane_.

She doesn't like to drink. A fact that took Peggy a while to make note of. The schnapps she brought to Peggy's apartment the night she landed her first show remain untouched. Peggy's still got it up in a cupboard somewhere. Thanks to the serum, alcohol doesn't do much for her anymore. Angie doesn't go out often, but whenever she does, she orders water, tea, or coffee. Never soda. _Ma never let us have it as kids, now, the carbonation makes me feel sick._ And never alcohol.

Peggy asks about it offhandly, on a night that they're out together before SHIELD falls. “Do you want to share a bottle of wine?”

Angie wrinkles her nose and shakes her head no.

“Champagne?”

“I'm good English, you can get some if you want it.”

Peggy hands the drink menu back to the waiter. “Nothing for us, thank you.”

“You can get it if you want it,” Angie repeats.

“No, I'm fine.”

Angie chews at her bottom lip for five minutes, picking at her garlic bread while Peggy tells her about something annoying that Natasha did on a recent mission. Then, she blurts out, “It's just... I've spent my whole life watching my dad and my aunt struggle with sobriety. My ma was almost definitely an alcoholic too. She just, got pregnant with my brother, Sal, and then stopped. I dunno how. But she doesn't do AA or anything like they do. Doesn't think about it anymore. But... my brothers all have it to some degree. Besides me and Eddie, they all drink way too much. I just figured... why rock that boat ya know? Besides, everything I've ever tasted was repulsive; I don't get it. And, not being in control of myself doesn't really sound that appealing to me. So... yeah.” she trails off, still picking at her bread. It's all crumbs now.

Peggy smiles at her. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” Angie asks.

“Shall we get this chocolate mouse thing to share later? It looks decadent.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Angie grins, gabbing at the desert menu to see. “I ate a whole one once and threw up right after. We've got to get it.”

Peggy has to press her lips together to stifle her laughter as the elderly women at the table across from them gasps in outrage.

…

…

Natasha calls her; from a hotel in Nevada; the coast in Maine; a hostel in New Orleans; a cabin in Canada; Wales; Sicily; Puerto Rico; Sydney; Argentina; across the globe and back again.

Never from Russia.

Their conversations only last a minute, two at the most. Natasha calls and teases her about Angie, about the fact that the first thing that Peggy did upon waking up in the hospital was to return the truck they stole. ( _Borrowed,_ Peggy insists every time. Natasha's dry chuckle ringing in her ears as she hangs up on her.) She only offers Peggy glimpses of where she is. Reports on the weather. Food that she's eaten. Nothing of import. Nothing that Peggy can really respond to. Small talk and nothing more.

“She's probably lonely,” Angie muses, kissing her way up Peggy's bare back. “Are you her only real friend?”

“No. Barton is. I'm not—I don't know if she'd call me her friend.”

“Peggy,” Angie stops what she is doing. Peggy mourns it instantly; whining a bit in protest. “She calls just to check in with you. Do you think she's calling Tony Stark every other week or so? Or the green guy?”

“Well, no.”

“You're her friend,” Angie declares with an eye roll. Then she grins and flips Peggy over, returning to kissing her way up Peggy's body with fervor.

Peggy remembers this the next time her phone rings, an unknown number displaying on its screen.

“All people do in Maine is fish,” Natasha complains, not bothering with a greeting.

“Do you enjoy fishing?” Peggy asks dubiously.

“I do not.”

They're both silent for a moment. Then, Peggy asks, “Is the weather alright?” because that's about all Natasha ever offers up.

“It's cold,” she hums. “Cold and wet. I'm wearing three different layers of sweaters right now. Pathetic,” her voice drops low, “I could handle Russian winters, once.”

It's the first she's mentioned growing up in Russia that Peggy can remember. She's not sure what exactly to say back, not sure if Natasha even wants her to comment on it.

“It was often cold and wet in London while I was growing up too,” she decides on, after a moment. “Probably not quite as intense as Russia,” she adds.

Natasha hums in agreement.

“Are you alright?” Peggy asks softly.

Natasha chuckles. “You know me, I'm always alright Cap.”

“Keep on telling yourself that if you like.”

“Right back at ya.”

“Well...” she's not _wrong_. “Angie wants to take you out for coffee sometime. If you're in the area.”

Natasha's grinning, Peggy can tell somehow. “Yeah, maybe,” she hums, then hangs up.

…

…

“Bloody buggering Christ,” Peggy exclaims when she sees the inside of Avengers Tower for the first time.

At her side, Tony beams. “I _know_ right!”

Peggy walks further inside, Thor gaping in front of her. “You're a proper idiot. This is gaudy, even for you.”

“What!” Tony yelps, “this is amazing. Your room's down the hall.”

Peggy whips her head around at that. “You don't expect me to live here with you,” she asks, horrified.

Clint wrinkles his nose at the coffeemaker, apparently not quite up to his standards. “I've got an apartment,” he says. “Several. I own an apartment building.”

“I don't think anyone is appreciating this enough,” Tony says, affronted. “Where's Romanov? She'd appreciate this.”

Peggy raises an eyebrow at him.

“Well... where's Bruce!? Brucey!” Tony calls out, “where are you? You love this don't you?” Tony runs off to find him, leaving Peggy, Thor and Clint alone in the kitchen.

“I believe Stark misses us,” Thor says, voice booming as always. “It is nice to have a place to sleep on Midgard.”

Clint holds his head in his hands and groans.

“Bloody buggering Christ,” Peggy mumbles.

…

…

Sharon joins the CIA.

She calls Peggy up about two weeks after SHIELD falls and informs her. Tersely, she adds, “I had nothing to do with—I didn't know.”

“I know,” Peggy tells her gently. She hadn't, truly. She'd hoped. Refused to believe. But hadn't _known._ But it doesn't matter anymore; she knows now. Angie told her how Sharon couldn't make herself step into Peggy's hospital room, how she just stared with this blank look on her face.

“Well...” Sharon starts.

“The CIA is lucky to have you,” Peggy tells her sincerely. “Give 'em hell. Drop by when you have a free afternoon.”

Peggy can hear the relief in her niece's voice. “Okay, I will. Tell Angie I say hi.”

…

…

Bobbi comes to collect her meager things from across the hall, looking a little lost. Peggy knocks into her, almost takes her down, but Bobbi has agility on par with Natasha, and catches them both from falling to the floor.

“Days at the hospital over?” Peggy asks, pointedly.

Bobbi stiffens, just slightly. “I was doing my job Carter. I'm not gonna apologize for being your backup.”

Peggy sighs, running a hand through her hair and flipping it out of her eyes. “I know. I'm not asking you to. Just a little annoyed I didn't catch on is all,” she meets Bobbi's eye, smiles soft. “You're very good.”

Bobbi gives her a grin back, and it boosts a little life back into her. “Well... honestly, you didn't make it easy. I was working my butt off to seem like a normal next door neighbor.”

“You're too kind.” Peggy nods to the box in Bobbi's arms. “Where will you go now? Now that SHIELD's...” she trails off. Nick Fury is alive and well, but Peggy can't tell Bobbi that. Even if she does trust her.

Bobbi shrugs, like it's careless. “Don't know yet. Mack's got a few ideas. I'll probably go with him. He's been my partner since the Academy,” she gives Peggy another grin, lazy and a little teasing, like she used to when flirting with Peggy in the halls. Pretending to be a woman named Brooke. “Don't you worry about me Captain. I'll be just fine.”

“I don't doubt it,” Peggy smiles at her. Bobbi Morse can certainly take care of herself. Peggy doubts that this the last she will see of the woman.

“Tell Angie I said hi,” Bobbi says, walking backwards down the hall. “And not to sneak her way into anymore government facilities. I can't always be there to watch her back.”

Peggy laughs lightly. “Yes, we've already discussed that.”

Bobbi winks, and then she's gone.

…

…

Four months after Peggy and Angie clumsily kiss for the first time, Angie brings Peggy to her childhood home for dinner. On her mother's orders to _'finally meet that girl you won't shut up about'._ Peggy, ungracefully, sweats her way straight through her blouse by the end of the evening.

She's greeted with a crushing bear hug by a man only a few inches or so taller than Steve. Salvatore Martinelli is both gentle and loud, yanking Peggy and Angie both into the house and hollering out that everyone is now here. Peggy can see Angie in him. The sound of footsteps is absurdly loud and Peggy wonders if there is a strange echo to the house until at least ten people are suddenly in front of her.

Angie squeezes Peggy's hand in her own, and then Peggy finds herself being pulled into hugs by each Martinelli brother, Angie's mother, Luisa, two of the brother's wives, Mikey's boyfriend, Scott, and a number of small children that Peggy has no idea to whom they belong.

To Peggy's great relief, Angie yanks Peggy back to her side and asks her mother what's for dinner.

Once they're all seated around one of the largest dinner tables Peggy's seen in years, she gets a better handle on who is who.

Salvatore Jr—who they all call Sal, _not_ Junior—is married to a stunningly beautiful woman named Akeelah. From the small spots of paint on her jeans, Peggy deducts that she is an artist. They have two adorable children, Claudia, twelve, and Malik, ten. He's the brother who lives in Canada that Angie was going to smuggle Peggy to if need be. Sal winks at Peggy later in the evening and tells her that his guest room is nearly always full of half painted easels, but Akeelah wouldn't mind sharing, should she decide that she wants to dismantle any other secret branches of the government in the future.

Eduardo, whom everyone calls Eddie, is not-so-secretly Angie's favorite brother. However, she spends less time with him than she used to since he married a woman named Molly ten years ago, and the two of them decided to embrace nearly every stereotype about their combined Italian and Irish ancestries. Most of the children in the room belong to them. Peggy thinks that there are eight, but they move around so often and all look so much alike, it's hard to keep track who exactly is who. She knows that the baby Luisa passes over to her for at least ten minutes is a little girl named Cara. Peggy rocks her uncomfortably while she stares back at Peggy with wide eyes, chewing on her own fist happily until Luisa takes her back.

Lucca, Peggy has met before. Angie brought him over to Peggy's apartment once and he attempted to hit on Bobbi Morse by dumping a cup of sugar down her shirt. Knowing now that Bobbi was an undercover agent the whole time, it's truly much funnier. He's a charming womanizer. Genuine enough to be likable underneath his flirty act. Angie, Luisa, Akeelah and Molly have no qualms about smacking him to remind him when he's being offensive. His brothers just hit him. Before the evening is over, he and Gino end up in what looks frightfully like a full on brawl in the middle of the living room. The children cheer their uncles on loudly while the adults ignore them.

“They always do this,” Angie says with a shrug when Peggy asks if she should go and break it up. “It's how they say 'I love you'. Idiots!” she raises her voice towards them. “Perpetually ten year old, idiots!”

“Boys! Don't make me come in there!” Luisa yells from the kitchen. Salvatore and Eddie continue their conversation on the couch, lifting up their legs whenever necessary. Peggy watches, baffled.

Gino gets a lucky hit in, then grabs one of his nephews and holds him up as a shield while he squeals with delight.

“Not fair,” Lucca pouts, running a hand through his hair and grunting as another nephew slams into his lap. Gino winks at him.

Gino is just as charming as his older brother, but there is a recklessness to him that reminds Peggy, horribly, of Tony Stark. Howard too. Peggy knows from Angie that Gino has gotten himself into trouble more than anyone in their family besides their cousin Ralphie. Where Ralphie is moronic, and stumbles his way in and out of prison for ridiculous, poorly attempted robberies and petty thievery, Gino is _smart_. His intelligence scares Angie. Because, he could use it for something really stupid if the guys he hangs out with ever manage to convince him to. Peggy can see what Angie means watching him. He has the same restlessness to him as Howard and Tony. Constantly moving, something always whirling behind his eyes. Near the end of the evening, he sets himself down beside Peggy and slips an arm around her shoulder causally.

“I know you're some big shot genuine hero,” he says, softly enough that no one else can hear them. “Ang's been going on and on about you for years. I know my sister can take care of herself, she's a big girl,” he turns to face Peggy head on, expression serious for the first time that evening. “But if you break her heart, I'll find a way to make you pay for it.”

A lazy grin slips back onto his face as Angie comes into the room, looking for Peggy. He winks, then extracts his arm. Messing up Angie's hair playfully as he passes her. She squeals and pushes him off. Grinning despite herself.

Michael is the closest in age to Angie; the two of them only eleven months apart. Peggy has meet him a few times over the last three years. He's a lot like Angie: loyal, energetic, fast-talking, stubborn, kind. When he found out that their grandmother disowned Angie, he got his friend, Charlie to agree to go with him over to his grandmother's house. He announced loudly that he was disowning her, and then made out with Charlie on her front lawn for ten minutes while she screamed expletives at them in Italian. Angie always says that Eddie is her favorite brother, but it's Mikey she is actually the closest to. Eddie is the one she looks up to. Mikey is the one right by her side.

His boyfriend, Scott, is soft spoken and sweet. He grins and asks Peggy if things with Mikey don't work out, can she hook him up with Sam Wilson's phone number. Mikey knocks his shoulder into Scott's and laughs. Says obviously, since Peggy is dating his sister, _he_ gets first dibs on Sam's number if they don't work out.

Akeelah calls out that she should get first dibs from across the room.

“Why?” one of Eddie and Molly's children ask. Peggy is almost sure that his name is Aidan, and he is seven. “Because you're black too?”

Molly puts her head in her hands while Akeelah laughs and leans over to hug her nephew.

Angie's sisters-in-law are both welcoming and not a bit shy. Molly, so used to wiping things off her children, accidentally grabs Peggy's hands and starts cleaning them at one point in the evening. She shrugs once she realizes, laughing and giving them one more swipe. Akeelah talks to her about Steve's art, bringing the subject up as gracefully as she can. Peggy knows that quite a few of his drawings are hanging up in galleries and sold into loving homes. He taught in New York for years after the war.

“I went to a class of his once. My senior year. He was seventy-three and still teaching. Honestly, I don't think I'd be the artist I am today if I hadn't gone. It was on a whim too.”

Peggy smiles, looking down at her lap. “He's very talented.”

“Is he... do you visit him often?”

“When I get the chance. Not as much as I should.”

“If you go again soon, will you tell him thank you for me?” Akeelah asks. “He was one of the most inspiring teachers I ever had.”

“I will,” Peggy promises her.

Angie's nieces and nephews all regard Peggy with varying degrees of caution and excitement. Three of the older boys, Malik, Ryan, and Danny, huddle together in a corner and alternate between staring at Peggy, and whispering fiercely at each other until Eddie walks by and catches them. The three other girls, Maureen, Julia, and Lana (somewhere between the ages of seven and three, none of whom Peggy knows which is which) all clamor around Peggy and fire a million questions at her.

“Can you fly?”

“Aliens are really scary.”

“Can you punch Danny for me?”

“How old are you?”

“Aunt Angie says you're a historical hero. What's that mean?”

“When was World War Two?”

“Can I try on your costume?”

“Is your shield here?”

“Can I hold it!”

“No, me first!”

“No me!”

“Me!”

“MOM! MAUREEN WON'T LET ME HOLD CAPTAIN AMERICA'S SHIELD FIRST!”

Angie walks over and hauls the littlest one up with one arm. “I definitely get to hold it first,” she says, tickling her before setting her back down. She slips her arm around Peggy's waist and squeezes once. Peggy relaxes. A little. “Right Peg?”

Peggy smiles. “Of course darling.”

The girls giggle. The one with bright red curls leaning in and whispering, loudly. “She called her darling,” they make exaggerated kissing noises at each other. The redhead dropping into the tall brunette's arms. “Darling,” she coos. The brunette laughs, then shoves her off as they run to play with their brothers.

“You're a saint,” Angie whispers into her hair.

“They're very sweet,” Peggy hums.

“They're adorable little demons,” Angie agrees. Claudia walks into the room, a little sulkily. Angie reaches over and pulls her into their embrace. “Claud's the only one I really like.”

Claudia's smile brightens a bit. She leans into Angie and shyly away from Peggy.

The night ends far, far later than Peggy expected it to going in. But, despite awkwardness, she finds herself leaving happily. Angie's loud and affectionate family is nothing like what Peggy is used to. But it's something she doesn't quite want to admit she wants more of. Angie sees it in her face anyhow, looping their arms together as they walk down the street and beaming. “Ma's gonna make you come back,” she warns.

“Lovely,” Peggy says, and means it.

Angie doesn't stop grinning for a week.

…

…

Natasha shows up on a Tuesday. Just appears in Angie's living room while Peggy is attempting to cook them dinner in the kitchen. (She's just burning vegetables now. Angie has probably already called for takeout.)

Angie screeches and Peggy drops the spatula in her hands, sprinting into the living room in a defensive stance.

Natasha greets her with a laugh. “Hey Cap, how've you been?”

Angie answers for her. Rising from her spot on the couch, still breathing rapidly, and winds up and punches Natasha's shoulder. “Ow,” she whines, clutching at her hand.

“Yeah,” Natasha turns to her, “your form is all off. It's gonna hurt if you do it like that.”

“Don't just _jump through people's windows_ unannounced!”

“Sorry,” Natasha says. She doesn't look particularly sorry about it at all.

The doorbell rings. “That'll be dinner,” Peggy says. “You staying?”

“Sure,” Natasha grins, “I'm starving.”

Peggy rolls her eyes and moves to get the door. While Angie starts asking Natasha how to punch her without hurting her hand.

…

…

She and Sam look for traces of Bucky everywhere they can. Peggy does _not_ miss Angie's first night in her new show. But, she does miss quite a few other nights. The guilt eats at her from both ends. But, now that she _knows_ that Bucky is out there... she can't just abandon him.

Angie kisses her fiercely, leaves as many marks on Peggy's body as she can manage before they heal too quickly. Makes her _promise,_ really promise, not to go off and do something stupid and leave her alone.

Peggy won't lie to her.

“I'll do my best,” she always whispers.

Angie's face always becomes fiercer, swallowing. “You better.”

…

…

Angie won't stop staring at Thor. He's smiling at her while she circles him, poking at various parts of muscle as she goes.

“I _know_ right?” Darcy says from her perch up on Peggy's counter. “Even if you're not into dudes... I mean...” Darcy waves her arms exaggeratedly at him as she trails off.

Angie pauses in front of Thor, arms on her hips, staring up at him, looking incredibly tiny. Peggy has never thought her exactly _small_ before. He widens his grin and bows. Angie hesitates, then shrugs and gives him a wobbly curtsy back. Peggy rolls her eyes.

“Has anyone seen my pen?” Jane asks, her fingers dancing in the air as she itches to write something down. Peggy has never met Jane or Darcy before, but she's heard Thor speak of them more than once. He just showed up at her apartment with them in tow about twenty minutes before Angie was going to meet her there. Peggy still doesn't know exactly why; Jane and Darcy both speak faster than Angie does. Thor just keeps smiling and asking Peggy how she's been. She suspects it may just be a social visit.

Angie walks away from Thor, still staring at him, holding a pen out to Jane. “Bravo,” she directs towards her.

“Hum?”

Angie nods to Thor and wiggles her eyebrows. Peggy scoffs from over in the corner.

“Oh,” Jane smiles fondly at him, “yeah,” she grabs the pen and starts scribbling something down on a napkin. “You too,” she waves in Peggy's direction.

“When do _I_ get a superhero to bang?” Darcy asks. Peggy's not exactly sure to whom the question is directed. She doesn't offer a response.

Angie keeps staring at Thor. “You can't have mine,” she says with a grin. “My mother's already bragging to her book club friends. She'd kill you.”

“Bloody hell,” Peggy mumbles. Thor grins over at her, then asks if she wants to go see what flies further, Mjolnir, or a frisbee of Vibranium. Angie and Darcy quickly decide to be the judges as they drive out to an open field while Jane keeps scribbling away. Occasionally looking up and offering suggestions on weight distribution and torque. All in all, it's one of the best afternoons Peggy can remember. Angie cheering her on, kissing her for good luck, not feeling like the entirety of the world is on her shoulders for a few hours. Peggy sleeps better than she has in weeks; Angie curled up against her, breathing steadily.

…

…

Since the Battle of New York, whenever they needed Banner to go green in a fight, afterwards, they just corralled him as best they could until he wore himself out. Minimizing the damage as much as possible. Abandoned warehouses, or quarries. Empty fields. Anywhere they're weren't people and the damage wouldn't matter as much.

Peggy is the one able to order him about best in battle. Simple things like, “Hulk, smash.” Anything overly complicated and he just glares at her and smashes about regardless. No direction to his destruction. But, after a mission destroying a hidden HYDRA base, they're too scattered, and Natasha ends up alone with the Hulk. Peggy can hear her voice shake—just the slightest bit—over the comms but she's too far away to be of any use. She finishes up as fast as she can, then makes a beeline towards the location Natasha was last at.

When she gets there, Natasha is helping Bruce up, wrapping what looks like a horse blanket around him.

“Good?” Peggy asks them both. Bruce nods, looking sallow and walks past them towards the Helicarrier. Natasha comes up beside Peggy. “Nat?” Peggy prompts. “What did you do?”

Natasha shrugs, but it's too stiff. The only indicator that she's uncomfortable. “Talked about you. And me. The team,” she watches Tony help Bruce up into the aircraft. “About being a monster. About someone else living inside of you, seeing nothing but red.” Clint comes jogging up to the aircraft and launches himself up with theatrical agility. Natasha smiles a little as they start walking over. “About an ex-carnie holding out his hand to a girl who wants to kill him.”

“Oh, is that all?” Peggy asks, a smile of her own forming.

“Sang the boy a lullaby Cap,” Natasha says wryly. They reach the Helicarrier and her face twists serious again. Voice low, she says, “I'll take Hulk duty from now on. I think I can do it again.”

“Is this penance?” Peggy asks, because she knows that feeling all too well.

“Maybe, does it matter?”

“No. Not as long as it's not punishment.”

Natasha knocks her shoulder into Peggy's as Clint yells for them to hurry up. “Now, why would I go on and do that?” she grins, and leaps onto the aircraft. Peggy right behind her.

…

…

They're raiding another HYDRA base in Sokovia when they come across the twins. Something— _someone—_ whips by Peggy, faster than it should and the hairs on her arms lift up. They come back with Loki's scepter, the HYDRA base demolished, but Peggy's not going to have a free night in a while from the looks of things.

She sits in Avengers Tower and pretends that she is enjoying the celebratory party. And, a part of her _is._ Sam's here. Maria Hill is out of uniform and donning a red dress and a leather jacket. Natasha is pretending to flirt with Banner and signing to Clint whenever he turns around. Rhodey is telling terrible jokes. But, she misses Angie.

They haven't seen each other in almost three weeks. Angie has been swamped with her new show. It's a bigger role and a lot more dancing. She comes home exhausted and tends to sleep in until at least noon. Peggy has been out on mission after mission with the Avengers and Sam. She hasn't slept in her own apartment in over a month. Peggy knows that Angie is probably onstage at the moment, but she sends her a quick text message anyway.

Tony starts trying to lift Thor's hammer. Thor sits there with a smirk on his face while everyone gives an attempt. Peggy rolls her eyes and rises when Clint prods her. Squaring her weight, she gets a solid grip on Mjolnir and pulls for all she's worth.

Thor suddenly sits up straight and Peggy releases the hammer. She could have swore she felt it move, but she must have imagined it. No one but Thor can lift it. It's impossible. But, Natasha doesn't stop staring at her for the rest of the evening.

Until her attention is diverted over to the giant robot assembling himself in the middle of the room that is.

Peggy wants to wrap her arms around Stark's neck and squeeze. Thor does it before she can. So, she settles for yelling at him instead.

Everything starts happening very fast after that. Peggy sends Sam to meet Angie after her show. Fires off a quick text asking Sharon to check up on her for the next few days. Ultron seems to know everything about them. Peggy isn't taking a single chance.

She shares a look with Natasha, straps her helmet on her head, and they go to Africa.

…

…

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are just children. Dangerous children, but children nonetheless. Peggy listens to Pietro's sarcastic jabs, Wanda's rage at Tony Stark, and wants to help them. Ultron, is not going to help them. No matter how much they may think it will.

Peggy growls in frustration as Pietro zips past her again, then falls to her knees as Wanda uses her powers on Peggy.

She is in a red dress, alone, in a dance hall.

 _It seems to me I've heard that song before,_ plays out from somewhere. Echoing into the empty room. Suddenly, a camera flashes in her eyes, and she's surrounded by people. GI's dance with girls. Flipping themselves all around, nearly knocking into Peggy. People are laughing, but it feels wrong. Manic. A boy is patting at a bullet wound on his friends chest with a napkin. Both of them laughing.

_It's from an old familiar score,  
I know it well, that melody._

Someone taps her on the shoulder and she turns around. Steve is grinning at her. Dressed up in his army uniform. Not looking a day over twenty-six.

_It's funny how a theme recalls a favorite dream,  
A dream that brought you so close to me._

“Want to dance Peg?” he asks, holding his hand out to her.

“Steve?” she gasps.

He pulls her close, their height almost a perfect match, and twirls her around the room. “We can go home,” he whispers. “How 'bout it Peg?”

Another camera flashes in her face, and she's alone again. Steve nowhere to be found.

 _I know each word because I've heard that song before,_  
_The lyrics said "Forever more"_  
_Forever more's a memory._

“Steve?” Peggy calls out, hating the shakiness to her voice. “Steve?”

_Please have them play it again,_

Someone is standing in the corner. Wearing a deep blue dress. Peggy squints, cameras flashing at her from nowhere. “Hello?” she calls out.

_And I'll remember just when,_

Steve pulls the girl to him, and together they twirl around the dance floor. People surrounding Peggy again, laughing manically, cameras flashing in her eyes. Peggy grabs one out of a man's hand and smashes it. Steve and the girl spin into view and Peggy gasps.

It's Angie.

She winks at Peggy as Steve dips her. Deep red blood dripping out of her mouth. Peggy gags, reaching for them. “Angie!” she cries. Someone shoves into her and Peggy can't see them anymore. “Angie! Steve!” They twirl back into view and Steve's just spinning Angie around, his face full of wrinkles, hers full of blood. Both smiling at Peggy as she recoils in horror.

_I heard that lovely song before._

Peggy wakes up in an African shipyard gasping. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sam Wilson won't stop sleeping on her couch. He also won't tell her _why_ he won't stop sleeping on her couch other then, _'_ _My apartment's getting fumigated._ _What? You bored of me already?'_ He's trying too hard to be chill. Add to that the fact that Sharon has called her four times in the last two days, _'just checking in',_ and she hasn't heard a single word from Peggy since she said they'd be out of contact for a while, and Angie's getting real damn suspicious.

Sam's in her excuse for a kitchen, making them banana walnut pancakes, humming to himself as he shakes his hips and flips one of them. Angie is _not_ pouting on the couch, she is painting her toenails. Neon purple. She found it at the bottom of a drawer. She hasn't worn it since high school, at least. She had to shake it for a good five minutes to get it started.

The tv's on low, stopped on a channel Angie can't remember. Just noise. She looks up at the sound of faint screams and gasps. “Sam!” she lunges for the remote and turns the volume up way to loud. The screams hurting her ears, almost vibrating right through her. Sam comes running into the room.

“What's—shit,” he whispers.

The Hulk is destroying everything in his path. Tony Stark flying around almost carelessly adding to the destruction while he tries to stop him.

“Just get him _out of there_ ,” Angie hisses at the screen.

“Dude's kinda heavy.”

“I don't care! Look at that!”

“I know,” Sam says, soft. “I know.”

“Why are they in Africa? Where's Peggy?” Angie asks, turning around to look at him. Sam won't meet her eyes, just stares at the screen with a frown. “Sam,” Angie prods, “the pancakes are burning.”

“Oh damn,” he runs back into the kitchen and Angie grabs for her cellphone.

It rings six times before going to voicemail. “Peggy, call me please,” Angie asks with a sigh, eyes still on the tv screen. “Are you in Africa too? What's happening?” Angie bites her lip, wiping a smudge of neon purple off the skin of her big toe. “Please just... stay safe. I love you.”

She and Sam sit on her couch for the rest of the morning, eating only slightly burnt banana walnut pancakes and watching buildings collapse and people die on the television. Angie doesn't finish her pancakes. Neither does Sam.

…

…

The vitriol that spreads against the Avengers is overwhelming in its swiftness. Fox News is having a field day. Twitter feeds can't refresh fast enough. Angie's getting a headache.

Peggy still hasn't called her back.

Angie starts getting into arguments with people on Twitter until Sam takes her phone out of her hands. “Girl, that ain't helping keep you outta sight.”

Angie glares at him. “Why do I need to be out of sight?”

Sam points to the tv. “Giant robot killing machine!”

“It's helping me not scream till I'm hoarse,” she says, flopping back into the couch.

“I get that,” Sam loops an arm around her shoulders, and Angie leans into him. “But Cap would never forgive herself if Giant Robot Dude found you cause of Twitter.”

“Giant Robot Dude can kiss my ass,” Angie mumbles.

Sam laughs for the first time since they started watching the news. His phone rings and he leans over, pulling Angie a little with him to answer it. “Yeah, she's right here,” he says. Angie whips her head around.

“Is that Peggy?”

Sam doesn't answer, just keeps on listening to whomever's on the line.

“Is it Natasha?” Angie asks. It's definitely a woman's voice, but it's too low and muffled to make out. Angie sits up on her knees, practically in Sam's lap as she reaches for the phone. “Natasha!” she yells at it. “Put Peggy on!” Sam promises that he will do something, then hangs up. Angie smacks his arm. “Sam!”

“It wasn't Peggy,” he says, mock rubbing his shoulder. “Nat wasn't with her, she didn't have time to talk. They're going to some safe house of Barton's.”

“Where?”

“She didn't exactly give me the coordinates.”

Angie considers attempting to strangle Sam, but decides that she would miss his pancakes too much. She doesn't know enough people with his cooking skills to kill him. Instead, she smacks his arm one more time and grabs for her own cellphone.

“I don't think she can pick up Ang,” he says, gently. “She's not avoiding you she's just—”

“I know,” Angie dials the number she'd saved into her phone months and months ago. The one Peggy doesn't actually know about. Not that Angie _didn't_ tell her on purpose, she just... didn't tell her. She'd saved it without giving it much of another thought. It rings five times, making Angie start to itch all over, till finally a voice cracks through.

“Hello?”

“Bobbi!” Angie yelps happily. She hadn't actually been sure if the number was real or not.

“Who's that?” Sam whispers.

“Clint's ex-wife,” Angie grins. Sam's eyes widen. “Bobbi, any idea where your ex's safe house is?”

Sam starts muttering, _'no, no, no, no, no, she's gonna kill me,'_ with his head in his hands.

Bobbi laughs, loud and bright.

…

…

Angie sends another text to Sharon telling her not to worry, but Bobbi won't let her say where they're going.

“You'll see why when we get there,” she says through gritted teeth. “I might get shot on sight for this, just so you know,” she adds.

Angie leans over the airplane's arm rest and kisses Bobbi's cheek. “I appreciate it.” Bobbi rolls her eyes, but nods anyway.

“They're playing _Marley and Me,”_ Sam whines from across the aisle. “I can't start bawling on a plane. That'd just be embarrassing. Either of you bring a book?”

…

…

Clint Barton, ex-carnie, ex-married to Bobbi Morse, famous sharp shooter, with a penchant for coffee and purple, lives on a farm. There is a tractor out front and everything. Angie did not see that one coming.

“He lives here?” she asks Bobbi as they walk up the lane. She nods. “By himself?”

“No,” Bobbi says with a sigh. “With his wife and kids.”

“WHAT!?” Angie and Sam yell at the same time.

“You're his wife,” Angie adds, as they reach the porch.

“ _Ex-_ wife,” Bobbi corrects.

“Yeah, how'd all that work exactly anyhow?” Sam asks.

“I was eighteen and stupid. He was twenty-one and stupid. We got smarter and older.”

“Oh,” Sam makes a face and Angie whacks him in the chest. Bobbi looks nonplussed.

“Let's just get this over with,” she says, and raps her knuckles on the door. Angie, feeling a little idiotic about it, partway hides herself behind Bobbi as the door opens. There _is_ a giant killer robot on the loose, who knows where the thing is hiding. Plus, she has no idea how the new wife is going to react to the ex-wife. Better to hang back either way.

A small, very pregnant brunette woman opens the door, “Bobbi,” she says with a warm smile. Sam lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief. Angie reaches out and whacks him again without turning around. “You joining the gang too?”

“Not exactly...” she motions towards Angie and Sam. “Sort of the babysitter.”

“I resent that,” Sam says, smiling at the woman and leaning over Angie and Bobbi to shake her hand.

“Me too,” Angie adds, she stays right where she is.

“Laura,” Bobbi says with an exasperated sigh, “this is Sam and Angie.”

“And... they're at my house because?”

“She belongs to the one in red white and blue,” Sam says, pointing at Angie's head. Angie smiles at Laura and gives her a small wave.

“Ah,” she nods, sharing a look with Bobbi. “Well, guess y'all better come in then.”

Angie catches sight of Natasha first. She's sitting on the couch, a little girl, maybe seven or so, is resting on her lap. It's so jarring that Angie just stops in the middle of the room, Sam knocking into her. Natasha looks up and gives her a wry grin, doesn't even look surprised to see them.

“Sammy boy, did you bring Angie and Bobbi all this way cause you were worried about little old me?” she jokes.

“Angie?” Peggy gasps, coming into the room, Clint just behind her.

“Bob?” he frowns, “what's going on?”

Bobbi sighs and just points towards Sam, who points to Angie, who looks to the floor in embarrassment. “There may have been some panicking,” she mumbles. When she looks back up, Peggy's grinning at her like a fool. She's still embarrassed, but she doesn't care so much about it anymore. “Hi,” she says, softly.

“Hello,” Peggy answers, her grin somehow widening.

“Oh, gross,” Tony wanders into the room, a small boy trailing along behind him. “Is Cap getting all gooey? See, this is why we shouldn't have girls on the team,” he whacks Clint in the chest. “Am I right or am I right?”

Clint rotates his head back and forth slightly, “You're very, very wrong actually. I like the two women on the team the best. You're my least favorite.”

Tony mock gasps, and brings his hand up to his chest. Angie notices the blue glow underneath his t-shirt. The Arc Reactor. She's only ever seen it from behind a screen. “You wound me,” he whines. “Where's Bruce? He'll—”

“Leave him alone,” Natasha orders, no room in her voice for argument. The room falls silent. Angie knows everyone is probably thinking of the destruction in the Hulk's wake as much as she is. They're not images easily put out of your mind.

“Right,” Tony says, far more softly than Angie would have expected from him. “Right.”

Peggy steps forward and pulls Angie's hand into her own, tugging her along into the kitchen. Angie's still processing that she's now met Tony Stark and Clint Barton. And Clint Barton's wife. And kids. The wife and kids thing is throwing her a whole hell of a lot more than she would have imagined. She suspects is the whole... normalcy of it all. Idilic somehow. He can go off and save the world with his friends and come home to his family. Angie hears her mother muttering things about grandchildren in her head and swallows, keeping her hands very far away from her stomach and not looking Peggy in the eye.

“Look, Peg, I'm sorry that I just barg—” Peggy whips around and slips her hands into Angie's hair, cupping the back of her head and pulling her in forcefully for a kiss. It's a desperate thing. She doesn't give Angie a moment to breathe, pulling her closer and closer till there isn't a bit of space between their two bodies. When she finally lets up, she keeps her eyes closed and her hands in Angie's hair, pressing their foreheads against each other as if she can't stand to be further apart. “What was that?” Angie asks, “not that I'm complaining but... are you... is everything okay?”

“No,” Peggy laughs, breathless, harshly. “Not even remotely.”

Angie appreciates the hell out of the fact that Peggy's not lying to her right now. Not trying to make up some story that everything's all rosy and fine.

“But I feel much better now that you're here,” she admits. Angie smiles, leans forward and kisses Peggy again till she's smiling. “I can't—we're not staying here,” Peggy explains. “We have to go... we have to...”

“Save the world?” Angie supplies.

“I suppose.”

Angie pulls back from Peggy a little. Not out of her grasp, but enough that she can look around the room they're in. There are crayon drawings all over the refrigerator, marks of growing children on one side of the wall, the room is bright and yellow and looks like a home. It's nice. Angie says so and Peggy looks around, nodding.

“I can't believe Clint hid a whole family from us. From everyone.”

“Bobbi knew,” Angie says, though realizing this is obvious since Bobbi is the whole reason she's here in the first place.

“So did Natasha,” Peggy informs her.

Angie nods to a drawing of a little girl holding hands with an adult with bright red hair. “Figured.”

“They call her Aunt Natasha. She's wonderful with them.” Peggy shakes her head in disbelief. “Every time I think I've gotten her figured out, she surprises me.”

“Just keeping you on your toes Cap,” Natasha says, coming up behind them. “Fury's here,” she adds.

“Right,” Peggy nods. “Um, Angie we have to—”

“I'll go see if Clint's wife needs anything,” Angie says, slipping her hand out of Peggy's regretfully.

“Laura,” Natasha says as Angie reaches her. “Her name's Laura.” Natasha's hand reaches out and squeezes Angie's hip once as she moves further into the kitchen. Angie smiles. _Nice to see you too,_ she thinks, then goes off to find out what's different about Clint Barton's second wife from the first one.

…

…

Angie sits and colors with Lila Barton while Cooper watches tv, and Laura continues on folding laundry like a bunch of superheroes aren't having a top secret meeting in her kitchen. She catches Angie trying to listen in more than once and laughs.

“How can you stand it?” Angie asks her.

“Having them here? Or waiting while he's gone?” she asks, knowingly.

Angie swallows, “Both, I guess.”

Laura folds a bright red t-shirt, using her protruding stomach as a table of sorts, and sits down beside Angie. “Been at it for a while now,” she nods towards Cooper, “He's gonna be ten in two months. Clint and I got married a year before he was born. He's been doing the hero thing since he and Bobbi were together.”

“You two seem...”

“Like friends?” Laura laughs. “We are. I've liked Bobbi since the moment I met her. Teased Clint for a while that I might leave him for her. We had him going for a good few months there in the beginning.”

Angie smiles. Lila taps on her knee and points towards the sun she is supposed to be coloring in. Angie picks up the yellow crayon. “But... I mean isn't it still...”

“Terrifying?” Laura asks, “yeah, of course. I always worry about him. But, I just remind myself that he can take care of himself, and he's got a lot of good people watching his back. And, that it's his choice. One I know he sometimes wrestles with, but I don't think he'd be happy doing anything else.”

Angie colors in the sun bright yellow, silent and thoughtful.

…

…

When everyone piles out of the kitchen behind the tall black man with one eye patch, Peggy isn't quite meeting Angie's eye. She adds a bit of orange to Lila's sun and tries not to let any of her worry show up on her face.

They're going to some city called Sokovia. Angie's never heard of it before. But, there are a lot of places in the world she's never heard of before. Apart from a school field trip to see a Canadian theatre festival her senior year, and summers in Cape Cod as a kid, Angie's never been out of New York before.

“I'm coming,” Bobbi states, looking at Peggy. The man with the eye patch (Nick Fury, Laura had whispered) rolls his eyes but nods after Peggy has already agreed.

“Me too,” Sam supplies, arms crossed defiantly. Peggy sighs and nods again.

“Yeah, me too,” Angie says, Lila moved herself onto Angie's lap a few minutes ago, preventing her from standing up and making it look more official.

“No,” Peggy, Natasha, Clint, Bobbi, Nick Fury, and Laura all say simultaneously. Bruce remains silent on the matter.

“What can you do?” Tony asks. Peggy turns around and glares at him. “I mean, no,” he adds. “Much too dangerous for a pretty little girl like you.” Peggy hits him in the stomach. “Woman! For a pretty woman!” Clint hits him in the back of the head. “Civilian! Your beauty has nothing to do with it!”

“Sam and Bobbi get to go!” Angie protests. She doesn’t mean to sound as childish as she does. It just falls out of her mouth before she can stop it.

“Angie,” Peggy starts gently.

“I know,” Angie sighs. People start filing out of the Barton home, Angie gives Bobbi and Sam some spectacular glares that she knows they will interpret as _'stay safe assholes'._ Tony Stark gives her a funny look as he leaves, almost studying her, and Angie squirms a little underneath his gaze. She misses Thor. Thor's her favorite. Thor lifted her over his head with one arm and Darcy in the other, spinning them around till they got dizzy. Plus, he smiles at her a lot and calls her Angela of the Martins. It's all very cute and adorable. Tony Stark doesn't make her feel adorable. Tony Stark makes her mostly mad. Natasha is having some sort of silent conversation with Laura as she slips past her, allowing Clint and Laura to say their goodbyes. Lila pops off Angie's lap and goes to hug her father goodbye. Natasha turns to Angie, staring at her unblinking for a moment. Then, she gives Angie a grin and walks outside, knocking her shoulder into Bruce's as they go. Peggy walks over to Angie. “You better not get killed by some robot overlord,” Angie hisses at her.

Peggy smiles, taking Angie's hand in her own and leading them into the hall. Allowing them a bit of privacy. “I'd rather not if I can help it.”

“Peggy...” Angie warns. Peggy leans forward and captures Angie's lips with her own. Kissing her slow and steady. Angie whines into it, tangling her hands in Peggy's hair, pulling it out of its ponytail and not caring that Peggy will have to fix it later. Peggy's hands grip at Angie's hips hard, pressing marks into them, like she doesn't want to let go. Angie doesn't want her to. She pushes her hips into Peggy's, grinding down on her a little.

“We can't,” Peggy says, panting.

Angie grinds into her again. “What if you die? We haven't had sex in like three weeks.”

Peggy looks more pained then Angie's ever seen her. _Good._ Angie pushes into her again. “Angie, they're all waiting for me...”

“I know,” Angie says, leaning back in and kissing Peggy fiercely one last time. “I know. But, if you die, you'll never get to have sex with me again. So, you should not die.”

“You make an excellent point,” Peggy says with a grin.

“I often do.”

Peggy kisses her one more time, and then her fingers leave her hips, and Angie's left alone in the Barton's front hallway, watching her go off to save the world with her friends.

Laura appears in the doorframe a few minutes later, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “So,” she says, “I was thinking grilled cheese for lunch?”

Angie turns her gaze away from the empty field in front of her and gives Laura a shaky smile of her own. “Sounds good to me,” she says. She holds her breath tight inside of her for a moment, then lets it out slowly as she follows Laura and the kids into the kitchen. _She'll come back_ ringing over and over inside of her head.

…

…

Angie doesn't really know when or how it gets decided that she's staying at the Barton's, but it gets decided somehow. They have grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. Cooper and Lila teach Angie some sign language as they clean up, then, Angie offers to take the kids outside to play so Laura can take a nap. It's much easier to worry about finding the best place in the barn to hide then to worry about what Peggy is off doing. The hours don't fly by, but they go by quicker than they would have if Angie was alone in her apartment. Lila and Cooper are good distractions. Cooper doesn't like to talk much, but Lila is all too happy to pick up the slack for him, translating his signing for her when Angie can't quite make it out. By the time Laura wakes up, they're all fast friends. Angie's been dealing with nephews and nieces since she was sixteen. These two are a piece of cake.

When Laura wakes up, they all pile into the kitchen and decide what to make for dinner. The kids yanking out random ingredients and Laura humoring them. By the time they've got everything finished, a massive feast (comprised of quite a few chocolate concoctions) is laid out on the table. Angie only finds herself pecking at it.

She helps Laura get the kids in baths and ready for bed, listening to her steady voice as she reads them a bedtime story. Then, the two of them make their way downstairs, and turn on the news.

It's worse than the destruction the Hulk made in Africa only a day before. Angie can't believe it. It's like The Battle of New York, and SHIELD falling, and Africa combined. Choppy video from different smartphones pops up everywhere. When the networks decide things are too graphic, or the censors make them pull the footage, Angie finds live-streams on the internet. They're easy to find. Too easy.

She sits with her knees curled up and tries to focus on her own breathing. Laura is absolutely still and silent beside her. Everything is so chaotic, it's hard to focus on anything she's seeing. Robots kill mercilessly. Ultron's teasing voice echoing out of all of them. Angie sees flashes of Tony in his suit, flying around and rescuing everyone he can get his hands on. He grabs one of the men filming with his phone, and Angie gets a hint of what Iron Man in flight looks like. The man just screams, over and over till Tony deposits him onto a boat safely.

Then, the Earth itself starts to rise.

Breathless, Angie watches Peggy run forward and desperately grab the bumper of a car as it begins to slip off the edge of the world. The bumper comes off in her hands and the car falls, the woman inside of it screaming. Angie gasps, thinking she's about to watch this woman die, when Thor grabs her, pulls her out of the car almost mid-air and tosses her up to Peggy. Peggy catches her and sets her down, telling her to run. Angie lets out a sigh of relief. She watches Peggy and Thor fight side by side, the camera all shaky, barely able to make much out.

The only time Laura utters a sound, is when she sees Clint and a brunette girl shooting red stuff out of her fingers fight side by side. The girl comes out of the cabin they had hidden in like a force to be reckoned with. Angie can see Clint grinning before the camera drops to the ground and gets smashed.

The problem, Angie is realizing, is that they're doomed. No matter how many drones they fight off, more keep coming. The earth is still breaking apart. People are still dying. They can't get away safely. Angie sees it in Peggy's face. There's a flicker of grim determination, and she looks over at Natasha, then Thor, then squares her feet and holds up her shield. And Angie _knows._

Laura's hand shoots out, and grabs hold of Angie's, squeezing hard. Angie _hates_ this, hates it more than anything in the world. Her gut feels hollow, like someone's come along and scrapped out all her insides, leaving her with nothing. She stares at Peggy's face and doesn't breathe.

Then, there's screaming. Well, _more_ screaming. Cheers. Some sort of aircraft ascends from nowhere, and Angie can see Sam, and War Machine flying through the air. People start running towards the Helicarrier, the cameras even shakier than before, and it's hard to pick anything out. She sees Peggy though. Peggy's still alive. They all are. Angie sits, stock still and holds Laura's hand as the cameras finally cut out.

_She's still alive. She's still alive. She's still alive._

…

…

Peggy calls her from the Helicarrier, about an hour and forty minutes after the cameras cut out. Angie spends those minutes sitting on the Barton's couch, holding a woman's hand she only just met, and trying not to let herself panic.

When her phone rings, she leaps for it, knocking her knee roughly against the magazine table in front of her.

“Angie?” Peggy's voice comes out all crackled and staticky on the line and Angie gasps. She says Angie's name the same way that she did four years ago. The day they met in the automat, and Angie decided that no one who didn't have Peggy Carter's exact accent should ever be allowed to say her name again. Peggy says Angie's name and she wants to laugh with joy, but when she opens her mouth, something awful comes out instead. It’s not at all a laugh, it’s a sort of choked keening sob. And she mashes her mouth against Laura's shoulder to try and stop it.

“Angie?” Peggy says again. But Angie's making that noise, and she can't seem to stop long enough to answer.

Laura gently takes the phone from her hand. “She's alright. Is Clint—is he with you?” Laura closes her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Is Nat—” she waits a moment, Peggy giving her information while Angie tries to collect herself. Laura pulls the phone away from her ear for a moment, “They're all okay. A boy, one of those twins, didn't make it.” Laura lets out a little sob as she listens to Peggy in her ear. “He died saving Clint.” Angie grips Laura's hand tight. “Pietro,” Laura says. “That's a great name.”

Laura passes the phone back over to Angie, kissing her on the cheek and whispering that the guest bedroom is already made up for her, and slowly waddling her way upstairs. Angie doesn't know how she got this lucky, how she keeps getting more and more people in her life that just... care so much and so effortlessly. She swallows, three times, making sure that noise isn't gonna come outta her again and scare Peggy or wake up the kids.

“English?”

Peggy lets out a gigantic sigh of relief. “Angie,” she says again, just the way that makes Angie melt.

“So, Robot overlord defeated?” Angie jokes.

Peggy laughs, but it sounds a little pained. “Yes,” she almost whispers. “It's over.”

“So, looks like you'll get sex after all.”

Peggy laughs so loud, Angie has to hold the phone away from her ear for a full minute.

…

…

Angie's allowed pretty much full access to the New Avengers Tower. Though, it's not a tower anymore, Tony Stark still calls it that, and he's the one responsible for her access. When she asks him why, because Nick Fury doesn't look too thrilled by the prospect, Tony just shrugs and says, _'You remind me of a lady I knew once. Maria.'_ Angie finds out later that his mother was named Maria, and decides that he's not just an annoying rich prick after all. She kisses him on the cheek, and he just makes an 'aw shucks' mocking shrug at her and saunters out. But, Angie can see through him now. That Arc Reactor's proof he's got a heart somewhere in that damn chest of his, so is the little card that lets Angie into pretty much any room that she wants.

Peggy's got her hands full training Sam, James Rhodes, Wanda Maximoff and a robot who calls himself Vision to fight like superheroes. She and Natasha work them hard, every single say. Sam and James, (who everyone calls Rhodey, but Angie doesn't feel like she knows him well enough for that yet) both have military combat training, so they need less work. But Wanda and Vision need all the instruction they can get. Sam and James don't want to have them feel left out. They want to learn to work as a team.

Since they're working so hard, everyday, it's easier just to live at Avengers Tower. Angie is sick of being left behind, and her show closed, so, she bunks with Peggy. It's... possibly the most amazing thing in the world, waking up wrapped in Peggy's arms every morning is something Angie doesn't ever think she'll get used to. It's still surprises her every morning as Peggy gives her a grin, eyes still half closed, and leans in to press their lips together.

It's swoon worthy, embarrassingly so. Angie wants it to go on forever.

…

…

Angie finally meets Steve Rogers.

She walks into the room clutching Peggy's hand nervously in her own, sits down beside his bed and feels surprisingly not at all jealous at the look of pure love Peggy gives him. Steve smiles at them both, shakes Angie's hand and feels so, so delicate. One of Steve's granddaughters is there, calling Peggy into the hall for a moment to ask her something and leaving Angie alone with a war hero, with the man who was almost Captain America. With the man who made Peggy Captain America instead. Angie doesn't know how to thank him. So, she doesn't try.

She leans forward and kisses Steve Rogers on the lips, soft and light. He laughs, says he's too old for that, and Peggy'd have his hide if she finds out. Angie just kisses him again (on the cheek this time) and tells him to let her worry about Peggy. Besides it's only fair, now they've all kissed one another.

Steve laughs so hard that Angie has to go get him some water, apologizing the whole time. Steve just waves her off and smiles, reaches out and takes hold of her hand and feels less delicate as he grips it tight.

“Take care of her okay?” he asks. “She always thinks she doesn't need it.”

Angie nods. “I know. Damn stubborn that one.”

Steve gives her a grin that makes him look twenty-six again, not a day older than in that old black and white photograph Peggy's got. “Yeah, but I think maybe she's finally met her match.”

Angie kisses him again.

…

…

Peggy, Natasha, and Sam still look for James Barnes. Most of their leads turn up empty, traces of him vanishing almost just before they get there.

Peggy just grits her teeth and presses on with a nod, unwilling to leave her old friend behind. 

…

…

Every Tuesday, nearly without fail, Peggy and Sharon go out for coffee in the afternoon. Angie only tags along on occasion, wanting to give them time to themselves. While Peggy's out, Natasha usually spends the two hours teaching Angie self defense. By the third week, Wanda joins them; wanting to get as much practice in as she can. Natasha tells Angie that Wanda, so used to having a speedster at her back, never remembers to watch her left flank. While Natasha comes at them, over and over again, Angie hangs back to Wanda's left, and they manage to take Natasha down together.

Wanda turns and stares at Angie, her gaze unrelenting. She barely speaks to anyone apart from acknowledging orders from Peggy or Natasha in practice. Peggy's tried to coax more out of her, but tries to give her space as well. Angie's pretty sure that everyone is still at least a little bit afraid of what she can do. They don't understand it. Wanda herself doesn't.

Angie sits down beside Wanda with her lunch, gives her a smile and starts eating quietly. Wanda looks shocked, but doesn't ask her to leave. So, Angie does it again the next day, and the next. Pretty soon, Peggy and Natasha start joining them. Whenever Helen is out of the lab, or Bobbi or Sharon are visiting, they sit with them as well. By the time the leaves start to change color, Wanda is making conversation and occasionally smiling. By the time the air cools enough for snow to begin to fall, Jane and another scientist named Betty Ross have joined Helen Cho down in the labs, working together to try and be able to explain Wanda's powers to her. Angie sits beside Wanda and swings her legs back and forth and listens as all of their words go way over her head. Wanda stops flinching when Jane or Betty step towards her. She starts smiling more, seeks Angie out without making up excuses for it anymore. Angie watches as a weight falls off Peggy's shoulders, and feels like maybe she's accomplished something she didn't even know that she was trying for.

…

…

Angie gets a callback, then a second, then gets offered a job four days before Christmas. It's a secondary leading role. The biggest she's ever gotten since high school. It's for a play that's already getting Tony Award buzz and it hasn't even opened yet. It's an _amazing_ role.

Angie almost doesn't take it.

“Are you _insane?”_ Peggy snaps. “Why wouldn't you?”

“Well...” Angie fumbles, “who'd keep Sam from getting into trouble? Or explain things to Vision that actually make sense, not with all that science crap Jane, Betty and Helen fill him up with? Or, who's gonna laugh at Rhodey's jokes so he doesn't feel bad? Wanda talks to me more than anyone else, I can't just leave her. And, Natasha would miss me like crazy!”

Peggy raises an eyebrow.

“Plus... I kinda like living here with you,” Angie admits. “I mean, I know it's just temporary and that's fine! But it's been kinda nice and I was just thinking that—”

Peggy shuts her up with a kiss.

“Angie, we can't all just stay here and play fight and work down in the labs forever. At some point, we're going to have to go out and do our job. You included.”

“Yeah, but... I could join up with The Avengers instead! I mean, I think I'm pretty tough now. Look at these muscles!” Angie flexes, and Peggy smiles at her. It should feel placating, but it doesn't. Angie knows that her arms look good. She has caught Peggy staring at them hungrily when she thinks that Angie isn't looking. The thing is though, Angie's pretty much always looking at Peggy.

“I think the audiences of Broadway would miss you too much.”

Angie sags, “Yeah, you're right. You guys are too normal, I'd get bored. I need theatre people.”

“We're too _normal?”_ Peggy asks with a laugh. “The woman frozen in time for seventy years, two ex-military men, a former child assassin, a magically enhanced girl who can literally read people's thoughts, a sentient robot born of Tony Stark and Thor, and a trio of scientists whose combined IQs actually hurt to think about. That's too normal for you?”

“Yep,” Angie says with a grin. “I need theatre nerds. It's decided,” she reaches up and kisses Peggy on the lips, then goes to find Wanda and ask her if she'd like tickets to her opening night show. Peggy's laughter rings out in her ears all the way down to the labs, and Angie smiles. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this, complete and utter ridiculous fluff tagged on at the last minute?
> 
> yep. 
> 
> thanks kids, this has been a damn fun ride. hope you had as much fun as i did:) 
> 
> (please don't kill me for where i ended it. i'm only half sorry.)

Angie walks down centerstage and dips into a deep bow, the audience screaming with deafening applause. Peggy, already on her feet, claps wildly, letting out a piercing whistle. Natasha, on her right, whoops, and Sam, on her left, lets out whistle after whistle. Angie grins as she rises, straightening up and holding her arms out as her co-stars come for their own bows.

Luisa and Salvatore Martinelli cheer as loudly as they can from Sharon's left. Nearly three full rows of the audience are filled up with Martinellis. All of Angie's brothers are here. Mikey clambering up onto Gino's shoulders to get Angie's attention, while their mother hisses at them to behave like the adults they supposedly are. Many of Angie's cousins, and aunts, and uncles are here. (Sans, Grandmother. Though, Angie's grandfather sent her a dozen beautiful red roses.) And a few of her nieces and nephews have been deemed old enough to sit through the musical. Claudia stares up from beside her mother and gapes at her aunt with proud shock.

Tony bought tickets for all of the Avengers, past and present, shrugging it off when Peggy thanked him sincerely. She knows that he's developed a bit of a soft spot for Angie. Apparently, she slightly resembles Maria Stark.

Only Bruce isn't in attendance. But, that's only because they still don't know where he is. (A flower was delivered to Angie's dressing room. Something exotic. Bright green. The words, _'Break a leg—B'_ scrawled nearly illegibly on the card. Peggy had smiled when she saw it, holding it up for Natasha and Tony to see, watching their faces twist with realization and relief.) Bobbi, Laura, Jane, Darcy, Betty and Helen are all in attendance as well. All whooping from the aisle in front of Peggy. Darcy is trying to convince Thor to let her climb up onto his shoulders. Luisa Martinelli's glare stops her in her tracks. Angie has more people here for her tonight than both the leading lady and man combined.

Her part is much better too. Peggy whoops loudly again. Angie was _marvelous_ tonight. The best that Peggy has ever seen her. To see her go from pacing around the automat while she's closing, barefoot and cramming lines for her auditions, to here, receiving a standing ovation and nomination buzz already. Peggy has never felt more proud of someone in all her life. Or more in love.

The ring that's resting in a pocket inside her clutch purse practically vibrates in Peggy's hands. Natasha turns her head and gives Peggy a knowing smirk. (She and Mikey helped Peggy pick it out two weeks before, teasing her relentlessly together the entire time. Peggy is never letting them interact again.)

“Shut up,” Peggy mutters to her over the noise of the crowd. Natasha's grin only widens.

Angie bows again with the entire company, the audience cheering on their feet. Peggy's never seen her look so happy. She watches as Angie scans the crowd, the lights blinding her; but, she finds Peggy anyway. Her face lights up as Peggy lets out another whistle, Angie's eyes whipping right to her. She blows her a kiss and exits the stage with the rest of her cast, waving and looking positively giddy.

Peggy grips her clutch tightly, the ring pressing into her palm, and goes off to find Angie.

She's in her dressing room, looking radiant. She jumps up and wraps herself around Peggy tightly the moment she sees her, words spilling out of her excitedly, practically incoherent with her joy.

Peggy is suddenly terribly nervous, and there's a moment where she feels her heart fall out of rhythm and flutter against her chest. What if she says _no?_ Angie is so excited and what if this somehow ruins her big night, takes the spotlight away from her accomplishment somehow. Peggy never wants to do that.

But then, Angie captures Peggy’s hand in both of hers, rubbing her thumb along the inside of Peggy’s wrist, and it says so much more than words ever could.

Peggy leans in and kisses her soft, and she smiles against Angie's mouth. And she doesn't hear a thing except the sound of her blood rushing in her ears, and Angie's voice. 


End file.
